Hooded Lies
by smos
Summary: AU. SasuSaku. In a desperate attempt to escape an unwanted marriage, poor peasant Sakura Haruno marries a convict bound for the gallows...not knowing that she just married the prince of their land. The scandalous prince that is.
1. The Desperation

**Hooded Lies**

**Disclaimer:** Me no own!

**PART ONE**

_-.:Marry for the right reasons:.- _

_The Desperation_

The ominous quilt of night shrouded the city with unrelenting snow and gloomy mist one particular winter night. The warning of an incoming snowstorm was evident in the heavy howls of the winter wind. Low-hanging vapors leaked of the white substance of snow which were accompanied by the wind and blended with the acrid smoke that rose from the towering chimneys where warm fires were stirred and stoked at the hearth to ward away the bone-chilling cold before falling to the surface to build up the familiar white blankets.

A fleeing wagon careened through the narrow streets of a city unwelcome, masked by the miserable night, as if it fled from some disastrous dilemma. It lurched and stumbled unsteadily on the pavement, skidding through the slippery path, unmindful of the mud and snow it splattered by its high wheels along the way.

The driver, portentously huge and covered in black, heaved and beat at the reins that held the relentless mare. His bellows of oaths and commands lost in the harmony of pounding hooves and stirring wheels. The din of the ride echoed throughout the chilling night, though drowned by the insisted howling of the wind and snow. Flickering lights led the way through the road, offering meager light to the travelers, shadows accompanying the journey.

Rosette colored locks flew with the unsure swish of the wind as the young lass gripped her black cloak closer to her person and pushed back into the wagon seat as she braced herself on the breakneck ride her friend had set for them. She felt little concern for the cold that threatened to break past her protective swathe, or of anything else for that matter, other than her thoughts.

A look of doubt flashed through her visage, her jaded green orbs containing no warmth but a sliver of hesitation…something that occurred rarely since Sakura Haruno was one damsel who didn't acknowledge distress, but rather, faced it head-on, no qualms or questions asked.

And this ride she was taking with her friend was doing so. Facing her distress head-on, that is.

However, this time, she wasn't so sure about the having no qualms or questions asked part. What she was doing was big. Bigger than what she had been doing for the past year with her friends…which was something that wasn't entirely legal…but you get the drift.

_Why do these things always happen to me?_ She cursed—and whined—silently under her breath…not that it made much difference under the howling snowstorm as her mind raced with the rapid velocity of their wagon. _If I was as blessed as what the old people tell me back home, I wouldn't be _in_ this predicament! Damn that skeletal disgusting old mouse! If I wasn't so poor, I'd toss out that intolerable and awful perverted swine out of my house and send him off with a knuckle sandwich or two!_

She wanted to tear her hair out from the irony of it all. Poor as she was, many people had declared her beautiful. Inside and out. But even her beauty wasn't much to her advantage. In fact, it will most probably be the cause of her own demise.

Living in the province at the far side of the country where drought had settled upon her lands for more than a year now, you'd think she'd live a, though not entirely luxurious one, peaceful life with her friends and family…but alas, it wasn't to be.

Actually, peaceful was what it used to really be.

Keyword: _Used _to.

That is, until Count Gin Inari came into the picture.

The pompous little bastard of a skeleton was as greedy with having her for a wife as he was with his riches. And being arranged to be the tax collector of their little hamlet for the Crown, he took full advantage of his power…especially when it came to his marriage proposals.

He would increase the taxes every time she refused him making it impossible for Sakura to pay considering the low production of her lands due to the drought. Though the money part had been taken care of for the most part, much to the count's chagrin, Sakura's continued refusal of him and her lack of alarm to his threats had led him to a desperate alternative.

An ultimatum.

It had begun simple enough. On one of his untimely visits to her manor he had once again tried his less than tempting proposals.

"My dear, Sakura, surely you can't refuse my offer of luxury again and again. I can shower you with jewels and all the comforts in the world, if you'll be mine."

Though huge words for such a tiny man, his words had nipped at Sakura's pride being the independent girl that she was, and she had to stop herself from punching the man's lights out and break every bone in his body.

Oh no, don't get her wrong. She wasn't some dainty lady. Far from it, actually. She could even take on three men twice her size and still come out the victor. And having the ability to do some major damage into the disgusting carcass of the man was too damn tempting. Too bad the idea of murder didn't sit too well with her though. So all she could do right then was glare at him with her jaded orbs wishing desperately that looks could kill.

It would've saved her the trouble! Really.

And no one would blame her.

Damned bastard!

"Riches that could rival the king's could lay at your feet, my dear…" Heedless of the resentment evidently shown in the pinkette's features, he had continued gaily as if his offer was the most tempting thing in the world. To Sakura, however, the only thing tempting about the man was getting a hold of those skinny twigs he called bones just begging to be broken!

"Riches that you stole from _my_ people, Count Inari?" She had raised an eyebrow down at him, her cool disdain for him made into words making his face twitch and she could only guess that the last of his patience with her had worn off…something she had lost for him many months ago! Finally!

"My dear, Sakura," he had started through gritted teeth trying to maintain his repulsively pathetic sweet-talking, "I can give you lands richer than—"

"I'd sooner see _my_ lands rot and barren than to see myself at a chapel with _you_ waiting at the altar, you damned cheating shrimp!" had been her bitten remark feeling insulted and was unable to contain her bitterness toward the man, her eyes with outrage.

Red-faced, the count had looked ready to combust. He had glared at her through his thickly rimmed spectacles, his thin whitish hair stood on ends. "You're a stubborn girl, Sakura! If I have anything to say about it, you will marry me!"

"Too bad you don't! _When_ will you get it through your bare skull?! I will not—I repeat—_will not_ and _will never_ marry you! Do I need to record it for you? Because I'd sound like a broken one if you don't get it soon!" She had given him a derisive snort worthy of a mountain man. She smiled sardonically down at him. "Now, Count Inari. Thank you for your visit, but I think you already know where the door is. I'd appreciate it if you'd show yourself _out_!"

At her command, the count had stood abruptly, his beady eyes glued to the fine features of the rosette haired female. "Mark my words, Miss Sakura Haruno! I will have you! One way or the other!"

"In your dreams bub!"

"Then perhaps, it's time to make my dreams a reality."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" She had retorted not missing a beat as she stood up, towering the scrawny chap a good head taller.

"Why, no my dear." He had then smiled at her shrewdly, the very essence of evil twinkling in his repulsive beads of eyes making the girl shiver at the wickedness it harbored. "Hear me well, Miss Haruno. I will be leaving on a business trip for at least three months, and unless you want your oh-so precious lands confiscated from you, you'd best marry me when I return. If you still refuse me, you will no doubt find all that belongs to you in the government's, or rather to put it simply, in _my_ keeping. I give you my word!"

"You wouldn't dare…"

"I'm a man of my word, Miss Haruno."

And with a sinking heart, Sakura knew that he was.

Inari wasn't beyond lying and scheming. He _was_ stealing from them through the overpriced taxes under the government's nose, wasn't he?

It came to no surprise to her that he'd made such a desperate move with her…and having no other choice in the matter, she had to make her _own_ desperate move as well…

Her lands, though nearly barren, was the only possession and the only remaining keepsake she had left of her deceased parents ever since they died when she was five. She couldn't bear to lose it! And especially not to a man whose bones would break with the wind if it was strong enough and still has the muck to lust after her!

_The bloody bastard! I'll damn him to hell! And when I'm through with him, even hell would seem like heaven to him!_ She continued to string curses and repulsive names to the conniving oaf, barely aware that the wagon she was riding on was slowly skidding to a halt.

"Um…Sakura?" A familiar voice cut though her hostile sequence of curses, bringing her back to earth and fully aware of her surroundings. The chilly wind, the incoming fierce snowstorm, the dimly lit road…and most importantly, the place she found herself situated in front of. She shuddered as her senses went into overdrive before she let her gaze inspect the structure before her.

Her heart thudded against her chest heavily, afraid that it would burst right out of her ribcage as her eyes rested on the huge gray and heavy walled building of a prison complex. She licked her dry lips nervously, unconsciously clutching her cloak tighter against her chest even though she felt little of the cold considering the fact that she was already numb all over.

_God, I hope I know what I'm doing…_ She closed her eyes briefly heaving a dragging, calming sigh. Her heart was stuck in her throat and it was hard for her to breath.

This…was probably the stupidest thing she's done in her entire life!

_Not to mention the most desperate. _She added a little sourly. She knew full well this was against everything she believed in. Everything she stood for. This was a huge sacrifice for her and her pride. And it was far from easy.

"Sakura?"

Sea foam orbs opened and wearily settled on her longtime comrade.

"Are you sure about this?" He glanced worriedly at the ominous complex. Suddenly, he wasn't so sure of her idea anymore…It was bad enough that they crossed the country to unwanted territory…

Smiling hesitantly at her friend, she gave him a stiff nod. "It's not like we have any other choice Chouji…"

Chouji, a big young man with a soft spot for food, was gentle in nature despite the fact that he could break a man in two with his oversized shins and take on at least five armed men. He glanced at her apprehensively. "You sure?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"You know we could always go with Kiba's idea…" he shrugged, offering nervously as he lumbered down the wagon. He sent her a pleading look. "It's not too late to change your plans, Sakura…"

Sakura tilted her head under the heavy black cloak the shrouded her entire visage and unusual hair into the shadows and looked back down at Chouji dubiously as he helped her down. "What? You mean breaking the count like the helpless toothpick he is?"

Chouji smiled lightly at her attempt in humor, his brows were still drawn together in obvious uncertainty. He knew what a risky person Sakura was…but this?

This was just plain…_madness_!

It didn't take a genius to realize it.

The girl adjusted her heavy wrap around her…whether for comfort from the uneasy foreboding feeling she felt as she made her way toward the complex or for the simple warmth it provided, she didn't know. She was numb inside. She barely felt anything actually. Walking to the building was like walking into her own grave…a feeling she could really live without.

Heaving out another calming sigh, she tried to appear nonchalant, for her apprehensive friend's sake. She knew Chouji was a worrywart. Always has been. She's been friends with him since childhood after all. And dragging him out in the middle of a building snowstorm wasn't probably such a good idea. It was the only way she could offer her thanks and solace to him.

"You know very well we can't just freely kill the man, no matter how tempting the idea is. Being charged with murder is the _last _thing we need, considering how in deep shit we already are with the authorities."

The big man nodded his doubtful agreement; his troubled gaze still glued up front his pudgy features. "I guess you're right…"

The pinkette nodded vigorously, more to reassure herself than her friend, as they ascended the cobble steps of the prison complex. "Yeah…"

When they reached to front of the building, Chouji rapped at the door. The sound of scuffling from the inside was the only hint the duo had that life was still at work around the place. No matter how dreadfully dismal the said place was. A moment later, the huge steel portals swung open revealing a man in his mid-twenties garbed in a guard's uniform.

If her heart was participating in some race, Sakura didn't doubt for one second that hers would've won. She gulped pushing down her anxiety and with all her might, managed to clear her throat, gaining the guard's attention.

She couldn't back down now.

"We…we have business with the gaoler."

The guard blinked at her small form. "What?"

"The gaoler. He's expecting us." She said a little more firmly knowing that if she displayed even the slightest weakness, all her plots were going to go awry. And she couldn't allow that. Every one was counting on her to do this right.

Her own fate counted on this.

Mistakes weren't an option.

Not right now.

Chouji shifted uncomfortably beside Sakura causing the guard's attention to shift towards him. His eyes widened at the impressive bulk that met his gaze.

"O-of course!" He stuttered out fearfully.

Sakura raised a fine eyebrow up at him, her features still hidden in the shadows of her cloak, before shifting her green gaze to Chouji who was just as befuddled as she was. She heaved out a silent sigh.

Turns out the sight of her friend's obvious structure was proof of business enough for the guard, because not a second was wasted before he stumbled back, straightened himself up as if to gain some composure…which wasn't actually saying much, and turned to show them the way.

_Sometimes, having a friend the size of Big Foot has its advantages…_ She thought with an amused shake of her head at the irony. She knew that underneath all those hard, huge muscles was a heart as soft as the most expensive satin silk ever displayed on the market. Maybe even softer…but who knows. She sure hasn't felt the softest satin silk before.

She couldn't afford it.

"Sak…?"

She braced herself to enter the complex.

"Yes, Chouji." She answered not bothering to turn to face him but fixed her eyes on the long dark hallway that led to the sealing of her fate.

_This is it. It's now or never…_

Sure sparkling emerald pools looked directly up at the big lug's worry-filled orbs. "We're going in."

-XxxxX-

The turnkey was a pudgy man.

Okay, so maybe pudgy was an _understatement_.

Hell he was even bigger the Chouji. And her friend wasn't even at all entirely filled with fat whereas the turnkey…was.

He was a grotesquely obese male. Now, while Count Inari looked to contain only of dried bones under his skin one would be scared they'd break, the turnkey didn't look he had any at all.

Bones, that is.

He was like…

_An overstuffed…pig…gone wrong. _It was the first impression Sakura had on the man.

At their entry, the large turnkey struggle to his feet from the chair he was sitting on with an eagerness born of greed that, Sakura knew, ran as deep as even beyond his bottomless stomach. She didn't know whether she was thankful that he was, because if he were otherwise, she wouldn't be there, making a deal with him.

Which she supposed was a good thing…right?

"Milady! I 'ad thought ye 'ad changed yer mind," The turnkey, Mister Kuma chortled making his way toward her with his short massive legs. They were so huge he had to walk with both of his legs wide apart making his gait settle in an amusing rolling motion. And even with his great weight, he was short, barely matching Sakura's much less Chouji's who towered the pinkette by a head. With wheezing breaths due to the immense exertion he had applied just to saunter over to her, he reached out, took her hand in his and bestowed a kiss upon it.

Sakura had to battle an unpleasant shiver to run down her spine when his lips touch her fingers, and she took it away just quickly enough before he could touch her any further.

She wasn't entirely a snob. She sympathized with people more unfortunate than she was, and she's helped them in a lot of ways, but the guy was just so…_disgusting_. And knowing that he was every bit as mean and greedy didn't help her opinion of him at all. Hell, she doubted she could even pass as a _lady_. Acting like one was part of her plan, and all the parcel that came along with it, with the bowing and the hand-kissing and the curtsying and everything.

She shuddered.

Though she was doing this for a good cause, she was still sickened with how she's sunk so low as to make a deal with a man like him, a man who was no less sinister and greedy as Inari, but she was _desperate_!

After all, it was a choice between this or…the count. And it was plainly obvious which of the two Sakura thought was the lesser of evils.

_Its better this way…_She began to reason out as she fought the impulse to just turn tail and make her way back home where she could be safe of this torment, her conscience prickling at her aware consciousness. _It's better to choose this kind of madness than to marry a man I loath…because I know there'd be hell to pay! And for the safety of my friends and family, letting hell loose isn't the best of ideas right now…_

_And this _is? A betraying voice rang through all the corners of her mind.

_YES!_ She cried mentally, desperate, wanting to be free of the building guilt inside her.

Life had never been fair to her. And it was up to her to _make _it fair. It always had. That was how she made it in life…and settling the battleground was one of her methods of making it fair. She knew that.

It wasn't entirely wrong…

_Is it?_ The voice cynically interjected. _It's not wrong but does it make it right? Using a man?_

Grinding her teeth together, she fought the urge to slap herself silly. _Will you just_ shut up_?!_

She's made up her mind! This was the way it's supposed to be! There was no turning back! Inari was coming back in two weeks! She was running out of time!

She clenched her hands into tight fists, pushing her conscience, which badly made a good point by the way, but wasn't entirely helping her situation, down into the deepest corners of her mind where it wouldn't bother her for the time being before turning her attention to the gaoler, all the while trying to block out the unpleasant aroma of stale rum and fish that enveloped the room.

Wow. Talk about inner battles.

"I'm here, as I said I would be, Mister Kuma." She tried to sound snobby and stern, like the real aristocratic females she knew far little about. She gestured to a certain path down the hall. "Please let me see the man so we can get on with the arrangements."

The fat gaoler paused, stroking his chin thoughtfully, wondering if there was someway he could sway the heavily cloaked lady into throwing in some more of her money for him.

The last time she was there had been at least two weeks ago, and she was heavily disguised too. It had piqued his curiosity as to what her reasons were to collaborate with a condemned man whose fate was to become a hanging corpse up at the gallows.

At first he had been suspicious. His way of life wasn't exactly a safe one being around criminals and two-faced fellows all the time, but when they had offered him a considerable sum, he had eagerly fetched the book of names containing the men who were bound for the triple tree and handed it over to the humungous, also heavily garbed, man who had also been at her side at that time. He could only guess that she was no pauper with the way she held herself, although there was no way to tell for sure, since her black cloak had covered every part of her save for the lower part of her face that wasn't shrouded in shadows.

But whether she was rich or not, he wasn't above wheedling his way into another hefty purse. Although as to how…he wasn't really sure. He didn't dare ask questions with the huge manservant at her side, and he never seemed to leave it, her side.

"Mister Kuma, I'm waiting…"

"We'll 'ave to see him in his cell." Mister Kuma heaved a heavy sigh, and then abruptly snorted. He snatched a ring of keys from his belt turning toward the hall where the prisoner he had learned to hate was being held. "'E 'as been kept away from the others or 'e likely woulda 'ave the whole lot 'o 'em risin' agin us."

"Oh? Why's that?" came Sakura's question, slightly intrigued.

"Aye! 'At Kiyoshi feller is a troublemaker, I'm tellin' ye milady! It even took 'alf a dozen guards to put 'im down when we they caught 'im." The gaoler said holding out his lantern for the strangers. And he, for one, knew how true that was. He had experienced first hand Kiyoshi's fist against his cheek. It severed the savage man right to be hanged! Although a slower end for the man would've been more to Kuma's liking, if you ask him.

"Really? I'll have to see it for my self then. He might meet my needs perfectly, after all…Besides, my good friend, here, will make sure Mister Kiyoshi will be at his best behavior while I'm there. You don't need to worry Mister Kuma." Sakura, on the other hand, wasn't swayed by the man's attempt to frighten her. She was a troublemaker, herself. Knew Kiyoshi and Kuma's kind of scum well. Perhaps she and Mister Kiyoshi would even get along just fine…

She just hoped this Kiyoshi person would quietly cooperate with her after all the trouble she's gone through. She didn't want to see all that hard earned money go to waste. It was bad enough that they had to spend the amount of money that could've last them a full month just for this escapade.

The smile on Kuma's face faded finding no other pothole to bend his way to a heavier purse. He shrugged it off, basically content that at least he had his share, proceeding into a gloomy dingy room through the heavy iron doors and into a dimly lit walkway with his peculiar rolling walk.

Silence held the place. The only thing that seemed to resonate through the gray walls was their eerie footsteps and the occasional groans, moans and muffled weeping of prisoners. Throughout the creepy crossing, Sakura held her ground, summoning all the courage she had left inside her.

Oh yeah. This _was_ the _stupidest_, most _insane_ and _idiotic _idea she's ever made!

_Dear god, why are you so cruel?!_ She, herself, wanted to weep.

"How long has Mister Kiyoshi been here?" Chouji asked the master gaoler, uneasily trying to avert his attention from the creepy room.

Kuma shrugged. "'Bout three weeks now."

"Three weeks? I thought you said he was just condemned. How can that be?"

"The magistrate didn't really know what to do with the lad. With a name like Kiyoshi being all powerful an' all, 'e 'as to be really careful an' make sure just 'oo 'e's 'anging. The Kiyoshi name isn't som'ing to take on lightly. Even the magistrate was reluctant to take on the job. But then 'bout three days ago, 'e gave the word—'hang him," the gaoler shrug of his heavy shoulders, his rolling gait still…well…rolling. "I don't entirely know much 'bout the bloke, but I gots my instructions from the magistrate that the Kiyoshis won't 'ear no nothin' 'bout the deed, an' being the clever man that I am, I figured, when they let me 'andle the matter, that Mister Kiyoshi is the one ye be needing." He stopped in front of an iron door. "Ye said ye wanted a man bound for the gallows, and I couldn't give 'im to ye until I gots the word from the magistrate."

"Oh…I see…" was Sakura's only reply trying not to sound too grateful. It was as if life was suddenly on her side, making up for all the misfortune it had brought her.

Now all she needed was the man's approval…

Sakura swapped a quick glance with Chouji when Kuma thrust a key into the iron door and, with a loud squeak from its rusty hinges, swung the portal open.

Her breath caught in her throat.

This was the moment of truth. It was the moment they had so patiently waited for.

And it all lay in the hands of a convicted man named Jiro Kiyoshi.

He alone held the future of her plan.

_Is it its end? Or its beginning?_

It was all up to him now…

Mister Kuma lifted the lantern a little higher making the light dance a little deeper into the darkened cell. Sakura's gaze fell on the man lying on a narrow cot with a threadbare blanket raised to his up to his chin in an effort to ward away the bone-chilling cold. He stirred and covered his eyes when the candle's light presented its illumination to him.

"What do you want, Kuma?" He dragged out coldly, weakly trying to sit up.

"Get on yer feet, ye curl! 'Ere's a liedy to grace His Highness's presence." The rotund man sneered sarcastically, remembering what Kiyoshi told him when he was brought in.

"A lady?" The prisoner strained to see another figure through the lantern. But all he saw was darkness beyond the paltry light.

His voice came deep and smooth to Sakura's ears. She couldn't detect a slur that was usually found in rowdy men. It even sounded—dare she say it—_pleasant_. But, though his voice was more clipped and refined than what she was used to, there was something else there too.

A hint of foreboding, perhaps…and a touch of mysteriousness encased his smooth speech that seemed to freeze anyone's blood in their veins.

Cold. Dangerous.

_Well, at least, Kuma's been telling the truth about one thing. _She sighed to herself dismally. _Jiro Kiyoshi was a dangerous man, indeed._

Sakura sent a cautious glance at her companion and Chouji could only nod in return, indicating that he had her back before she stepped out of the shadows, all the while studying Jiro through the scanty glow of the lantern.

His clothes were ragged and tattered. It was barely enough to cover his slender, well muscled torso and long lithe legs. Bruises and dried blood covered his sculpted upper body and his rippled upper arms.

At the sight of his well-muscled and supple body, despite the fact that he was a deprived prisoner, it made Sakura thankful she was used to seeing guys naked to the waist. If she wasn't, she'd probably stutter and blush like the vestal virgin she really was…because…as much as she hated to admit it, his sinuous built was, by far, the most god-like structure she's seen in…well, her entire life…

Shaking the thoughts side, she raised her gaze to his face…which was…mostly obscured with his growing beard. She could only guess that he wasn't allowed to touch a razor seeing as how fearful Kuma seemed to be of the man.

_But at least he isn't the beast I imagined him to be. That, at least, is a bright side…_ She mused silently, her eyes still fixed on the subject of her mission.

Through his disheveled and tossed dark hair, his deep eyes remained alert, his own gaze gazing on her own form…which wasn't much to look at thanks to the cloak she wore. And she couldn't be any more thankful.

His eyes were like piercing arrows—searing, calculating and searching.

Silence regained its grip around them as the duo stared at each other, as if assessing each other into their systems.

Jiro remained silent.

And then…

"Mister Kuma, leave us alone now. I wish to speak to Mister Kiyoshi in private." The melody of Sakura's voice was a command in itself. Quiet but firm.

Kuma hesitated. "But, milady—"

"Now."

"But 'e'll wring yer ne—"

Sakura smiled beneath the shadows of her hood knowing where the greedy turnkey was heading. He wasn't afraid for her safety. He was afraid for the safety of his _money_…Something Sakura hasn't given him yet—and perhaps still a little stingy at giving it away.

Money didn't grow on tree, after all.

"You needn't worry, Mister Kuma. It's my neck I'm risking. You will still be paid as agreed for your services."

Guilty as charged, Kuma turned a dangerous shade of red…almost purple. Sakura could only smile at the pathetic creature, feeling no pity for the man at all. _Greedy people are so predictable._ She mentally shook her head at the thought.

"Be careful, milady. He's a fast one." He nodded toward the captive before exiting the dank chamber muttering sourly to himself, but left the lantern behind for the occupants left in the room.

Emerald orbs met concerned russet pools.

"You too, Chouji."

Jiro's gaze fell to the enormous man by the lantern as if he had just seen him there. He watched the strangers' exchange in silence.

Under the big man's hood, the lines of worry present on his visage deepened. "But Sa—"

"I can handle it."

The knowing smile Chouji was familiar with was reassurance enough. Sakura was by-far not the girl to mess around with, he knew. She could protect herself…but…

He shifted his gaze to the prisoner. The man looked able to take her on…The finely sculpted sinews that adorned him told Chouji enough that he was no lousy, drunk lout.

His eyes met Sakrua's again. "Are…you sure…?"

At his friend's sure nod, he tentatively departed the cell, closing the door behind him and placed himself before the door to guard it from any possible eavesdroppers to do what they do best.

Eavesdrop.

A long pause a followed the huge man's wake; Jiro settled his gaze back to the heavily cloaked figure, unable to draw any possible explanation as to why they were there. He certainly hasn't seen them before.

Well, not that he could actually _see_ the under the weighty warps draped around them anyway…

"Are sure you want your escort way out there, my lady?" Jiro finally said in the deep monotone timbre of his voice, drawing Sakura away from her thoughts just in time to see him tilt his head to the door where Chouji's back was visible through the small window.

Swallowing the hard lump that settled in her throat, she managed to send him a slow small smile. "Yes. I can take care of myself…" was her only answer before walking up to Jiro Kiyoshi, walking and surveying around him as if she was examining a prized animal.

Each deliberate movement she took was followed by the captive's patiently alert, slightly suspicious and yet somehow amused eyes.

"Who are you?" The monotone of his voice shook the silence in the room away.

Moving away from him, Sakura stood before him just out of his reach. "My name doesn't really matter."

His dark eyes narrowed.

"But yours does."

**A/n:** So, I decided to rewrite this before I continue on with chapter five mainly because I need to get a feel of this story again. I haven't updated this in almost a year and a little trip down memory lane is in order. Sorry again for the delay guys! I'll put up chappie numero cinco soon! Ciao!


	2. The Conspiracy

**Hooded Lies**

_The Conspiracy _

Dark pools narrowed at the shrouded form in front of him. Under the black shadows cast by the enveloping cloak draped around his guest, what she looked like, her age and figure left much to his imagination. He casually folded his sinewy arms across his chest choosing to play her game. "I've heard the dowagers in most courts practice strange pleasures…You wouldn't happen to be one of them, are you _milady_?"

Sakura's soft tinkling laughter reached his ears and, deciding to appease the man's curiosity, lowered the hood of her cloak. "I don't think you need to worry about that, Mister Kiyoshi. I am, as you can see for yourself, a woman."

Twinkling green orbs tinkled up at his probing dark pools. She smiled up at him carefully, coyly even. "No need to be so suspicious."

His scowl was the only answer he gave her. What a girl, and an unusual one at that, with her unfathomable sea-green eyes fringed with dark long curling lashes and unusual short pink hair, was doing there in his prison cell was beyond him. He sure hasn't seen her before.

To see a particularly young visitor at his less than appealing abode attempting to do business with him, he could but only stare down at her, awaiting her pleasure to give him more information of her business with him.

Caution was a lesson he wouldn't soon forget, after all…And right now, it was all that mattered.

Sakura heaved a soft sigh at the man's continued silence. Looks like she was going to tread through this more carefully than she had thought. It was clear the man was no fool, that much she could see. The suspicion in his dark orbs glowed eerily under the dim offering of the lantern light making him look even more dangerous.

She gulped.

Oh, yeah. She was _definitely_ treading on thin ice.

_Really _thin. As in _cheese_ thin.

But before she could allow her thoughts to run any further and convince herself to turn tail and just murder the damned count to get things over with and end her misery, her sense of duty held on to her resolve. No way was she running away now! She was going to do this! She was going to beat Inari at his own game and, once _this _was over with, she could continue to live her life normally and peacefully, just the way she liked it!

"You see, Jiro" She started before she lost the nerve to again…only this time she used his given name with casual familiarity just to make herself feel better. Knowing that she had a higher ground than the man. She was, after all, impersonating a lady…Something she was playing very well…for the most part anyway. "I need your name."

If it was possible, the already narrowed dark pools of the captive thinned further into dangerous slits.

Sakura wet her lips with her tongue apprehensively, choosing her words carefully. If there was something she's learned throughout the twenty-one years of her life, it was knowing whether or not your opponent was hardly a threat or as deadly as any animal of prey. And it sure looked like Jiro Kiyoshi was even more dangerous than any animal of prey she had ever encountered before.

"I suppose you're aware of the reputation the Kiyoshi family has over the kingdom of Fire—"

"Kiyoshi?" He interrupted, an eyebrow rose in some confusion and suspicion. As if he wasn't sure that it was really the name she wanted.

Sakura nodded her head in an affirmative carefully. "Yes. The Kiyoshi family is one of the most prominent and important families from the continent allied with Fire and…I…" she hesitated casting her green orbs to the dark cobbled ground, "have to marry a man of sterling name…That's you."

"…You want to marry a man condemned with murder?" There was a tinge of disbelief in his deep monotone timbre, though the caution was still not altogether lost in his tone.

Again, the girl nodded. "I know you're not related to the Kiyoshis residing in Fire of course, but nevertheless, a name is still a name. It's all I need really. And since you won't be needing your name in the near future, I think I could put it to good use when you're gone."

Confusion was all that swarmed his thoughts after that. He couldn't begin to comprehend what the strange girl's motive was. Did she want or have a lover? A child? Debts?

A puzzled frown met her green gaze. "I don't get it. You're…_proposing_ marriage to a man about to hang? Do you even know what you're saying?"

"It's simple really. I just have to marry a man of the aristocratic circle." She said with a shrug. "You don't have to be an aristocrat, but your family name does say a lot…"

"Aren't _you_ from an aristocrat?"

"Even if I am, it doesn't mean I can take just anyone." A delicate eyebrow rose, and an enigmatic smile graced her pink lips. She turned her back to him. "The point is that, I don't want to marry this…_significant_ other I'm supposed to marry. I have yet to find the man I would choose as my own and I doubt that Mr. Right would show up in two weeks' time."

_Ah, a romantic. _Jiro thought with a mental scoff. It was pathetic, really but he said nothing, merely watching the eccentric young miss with cynical dark orbs. He knew where this conversation was going. He advanced.

Sakura breathed in a handful of air.

_Okay…Now comes the hard part_…She braced herself for what was about to come. She knew she wasn't the most persuasive girl around, but she still _had_ to try. Should be easy right?

Yeah.

_Sure…_

Just one problem though…

To be persuasive, she would have to plead, _beg._ Swallow her hard earned pride and plead to a _murderer_.

Talk about how the mighty has fallen.

The whole idea in itself was unappealing.

_Kiba's never going to let me live this down…_She though dejectedly exhaling a nervous breath before continuing. "Mister Kiyoshi—Jiro…you…are my last hope to stop this marriage from happening…but—"

"What will I get in return?" The prisoner asked before she could continue.

_Wha—! _She froze feeling him suddenly behind her, his breath warm against her ear.

"You know…My mother has always tried to teach me rules a gentleman should abide to. Such as respect for women…" He whispered huskily in her ear.

_How…how…?_ She swallowed feeling a foreboding prick of apprehension to rise in her stomach.

_Run! Run! Rrrrruuuuunnn!_ A small voice inside her head screamed sending panic signals throughout her body…which didn't seem to be complying. She just stood there, rooted on the spot as the indicted killer stood behind her, hardly a hair away from her person.

"…But my father has also taught me one rule I have _always_ followed." His voice, deep, rich, husky and just barely above a whisper, reached her ears, sending a shiver of foreboding to run down her spine.

She cursed silently under her breath, berating herself for being so careless, as panic began to settle into her system. How did he manage to maneuver his way toward her without even making the slightest sound? She didn't even hear him move!

He smirked. "Milady…"

Her breath caught in her throat when she felt his cold hands on her shoulders. His grip was gentle but firm. She didn't dare move though, growing cautious.

She should've known, should've been prepared for some tricks up his sleeves. He was a murderer after all. And he was no dope either. And having both wasn't entirely a good combination.

She should know. She's had her fair share of thugs. And dang, this was one thug she hasn't ever encountered before. A smart thug.

Ignoring the red alert signals her instincts were shooting through her body, she maintained a calm and confident countenance. "And that would be?"

She couldn't—wouldn't—_refused_ to give him the pleasure of having the upper hand. She knew that intimidation was a basic tactic into getting into someone's skin. Whoever does it better wins the advantage. And _he _was trying to intimidate her. She couldn't allow that. It was one advantage Sakura wasn't willing to give without a fight. That was what she really was after all.

A fighter.

"Never—" The wily man rasped. "Ever buy a mare with a blanket on…"

His voice was a rumble in his chest and Sakura could all but suppress the flinch when his lean fingers hovered above the fasteners of her cloak.

"May I?" His voice, though soft, seemed to echo and fill every darkened corner of the cell.

The young pinkette pulled away from his hold before he had a chance to pull her cloak away and see the worn gown no respected lady would be caught dead wearing, and faced him squarely, her green eyes glinting with a sudden rise of anger under the scant illuminating glow of the lantern light.

"Jiro. Let's keep ourselves in a business level here." She snapped tersely. She grew annoyed at how easily he had driven her to a corner like a predator would its prey, infuriated that he had turned her carefully thought out, although rushed in performance, plan around.

S_he_ was supposed to be the predator here! Not the other way around! "I know that nothing comes without a price, Mister Jiro Kiyoshi, so I ask you to hear what I have to offer."

Although his arms returned to his sides, his intense gaze was fastened on her so acutely it made Sakura feel kind of conscious under his scrutiny. Because though she refused to be outwitted and put off by the man, there was just something about him that screamed menace. Darkness. And every other word that made its essence. It was there in his intelligent gaze, in his casual demeanor.

He towered over her dominatingly and it unnerved her.

_Whatever this man did to end up here was probably big. And catching him must've been hard too…_ She concluded with a shudder.

"Hn, if you think that I'll bargain my name for a price as shallow as receiving warm blankets, food, wine and clothing, you thought wrong, my lady." His said in a hushed tone, his eyes boring holes into her.

Sakura's eyes waved a bit knowing, _fearing_, what he wanted in return, but she held her ground.

"My price is high, my lady."

"Let's here it then." Her voice came out barely above a whisper, her patience thinning, her breath coming out in a rush.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a satisfied smirk. "Are you sure?"

Jaded orbs narrowed up at him. Lips thinning in a stern line. "Tell me."

"Consummate our marriage."

"_What_?" A barely stifled scream exploded from the pinkette coming out as a half shriek and a half gasp. She couldn't believe he actually said it! It took all of her will power to stop herself from tackling the man and laying her good ol' one-two rabbit punches up his already obscured face which would...er…only obscure it further. Only this time with the bruises she'd inflict.

"You heard me." He tilted his head to the side cockily walking over to his shabby cot and sat down casually. He threw her a smug look. "My name is the only precious thing left in my possession. It's mine to give alone. In return I ask you to give me what is precious to you and yours to give alone. Wouldn't that be a fair price?"

"Are you crazy?" The pinkette half shrieked.

The sly smirk he wore intensified as he swung his feet on his bed. "I'm a man bound for the triple tree, milady. Such price would, indeed, give me ease better than any warm blanket."

"But…but…" She tried to protest hesitantly and flushed not meeting his gaze.

What the hell was happening here?! It wasn't supposed to be like this!

She was supposed to offer him good food, blanket and a good grave, damn it! Not actually marry him, marry him! For Pete's sake, she just needed his signature!

"Listen. If you're going to become a widow, wouldn't it be logical to lose your virginity to your first husband than to let whoever husband you choose after me to wonder why you still have your maidenhead intact? You would cause suspicions. If we consummate our marriage, it would satisfy _both_ our causes, my lady. Think about it."

She stared up at him in disbelief. She could see the trap set for her, as well as the clear logic in his words. He made a damn good point. But it was a damn price to pay too!

Her virginity for a damned aristocratic name? For a _signature_? Would she really…? Could she really…? With a murderer?

The silence that death itself would find it hard to impersonate settled upon the dank prison cell leaving the occupants to center on their thoughts. And one particular occupant had her thoughts in a quite traumatic turmoil. The other, at complete ease.

Sakura was left with two heavy choices. Both of which didn't sound appealing.

But which was really the lesser of the two evils now?

The first of the two evils was Count Gin Inari.

If she didn't marry anyone with a famous name soon, Inari would. The count was bent on having her for a wife and her lands. And she herself was bent on him not having either.

Her only way out would be if she managed to convince the count that she married a rich aristocrat during the three months he had been gone so he wouldn't wonder where she got all the money to pay for her taxes…and possibly even stop raising them out of contempt.

That should've been easy enough…right?

Right.

Sure it was. She could be beautiful when she put her mind to it…at least that's what they tell her. It wouldn't be hard for her to hook in a man.

But the problem to that solution wasn't her face.

It was the fact that she knew next to no one of the aristocratic circle. Not many rich men visit her part of the province, being too poor to maintain any tourist attraction. Plus she hated noblemen with all their fancy frills and luxurious galore. They were all the same, those doddering dandies. All of them were bent on climbing up that social ladder, and it was one of the last things she needed.

A husband practically living on impressing others!

The solution?

The man with the aristocratic name nearing death.

Which is why she was there. In prison. With said man with a prominent name nearing death.

Jiro Kiyoshi.

The problem?

Jiro Kiyoshi.

Also known as the second of the two evils.

If she chose him, she'd be free from Inari. Her plan would work. He would stop bugging her and she would be free to rule her lands again. And even if Jiro was dead, Inari wouldn't dare threaten her again…because she would be a _Kiyoshi_…

But it was that…or bye-bye virginity.

Did she really want to sleep with a man she not only barely knew, but was one of the lowest of lowlifes found in the lowest dump? Could she really sink so low? And turn herself into a slut…?

_No!_ Her mind protested with an angry roar.

…

And then…

_Yes?_

…

_I don't know!_

Sakura inwardly groaned in anguish. Oh, what was a girl of twenty-one with no parents to do?!

_Damn it! Why don't things always go easy for me?! And more importantly, why _me_ anyway?!_

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to regain a sensible portion of her composure, she looked up at him again, eyes filled with resolve. "You're price is too high Mister Kiyoshi…" She exhaled her voice dropping into a gentle whisper.

He clucked out a disappointed tsk, though she doubted that he actually was. Jiro Kiyoshi had the air of a man of absolute confidence…despite the fact that he was in prison. A certain fact that would've left anyone less sure of himself, but whatever. _He_ was the one hanging, not her.

With another deep intake of breath, she charged on before she lost her gut, determination radiating off her. "But I did come here prepared to plead."

Silence.

His blinked down at the girl in front of him, shocked.

She met his gaze unwaveringly. "It's a deal then."

Jiro looked unaffected but it took a lot of effort on his part to keep his jaw from unhinging and inevitably dropping to the dirty floor. He hadn't expected her to agree. Really. She _was_ a lady, wasn't she? A genteel lady of noble blood, right? Because ladies don't just sleep with anybody…

…

Well, okay, so maybe they do…

But not with people like him.

_Never_ with people like him.

Was she serious?

Was she really that _desperate_?

"…"

"…"

_Yes…_

He knew it.

She knew it.

With that knowledge, a deal was made.

Their fates were sealed.

And they both knew it too.

"I'll be back in two days…"

He nodded and she left.

Dark orbs stared after her retreating back. _It's a deal._


	3. The Setback

**Hooded Lies**

_The Setback_

The velvet purple pouch fell on the wooden table with a hollow thud that seemed to reach every dark corner of the small dimly lit chamber. Beady brown eyes grew enormous eagerly feasting on the golden coins spewing out of it. Mouth watered. Fingers itched.

"Do we have a deal Mister Kuma?" A deep, calm voice rumbled the turnkey out of his greedy thoughts.

Kuma's sparkling muddy beads of eyes reluctantly left the heavy looking pouch of golden riches, dragging them up to the tall eerie figure before him. He fidgeted uncomfortably. "M-Milord?"

"Will you set the man free?" The man silhouetted by the darkness smiled wanly, patiently, down at the rotund turnkey through the scant luminance of the lantern light.

"B-But…but milord! 'E's…about ta 'ang…I…" He gulped, his gaze returning to the innocent looking little purple pouch lying oh-so temptingly on his table. "…I can't milord…" he finished mournfully. "I…can't…"

His voice shook. As if he was ready to weep. Goodbye sweet golden coins! Goodbye to your uncanny sparkling ability to make one oh-so stinking rich! Goodbye dear sweet vittles and everything that is existent and edible that can be bought by those sweet golden coins with the uncanny sparkling ability to make one oh-so stinking rich!

_Goodbye!_

Reaching into his silk coat, the unfamiliar visitor took out another purple pouch, one that looked just as heavy as the other. He sighed softly and the gaoler's enormous beady orbs slid over them with as much hunger as a wolf starved to death during winter. And, indeed, he was _famished_!

"Are you sure?"

The pouch fell with another hollow thud, followed by a distinct jingling tinkle. A tinkling sound…a sound so tempting…

So alluring…

So seductive it could rival the most enthralling maiden that could ever be at his company during one of those long winter nights…

He hesitated. Eyes glancing from the twin purple purses to the richly garbed gentleman standing serenely in front of him.

"Mister Kuma?"

The pudgy gaoler gulped, eyes returning to the offered treasures.

Under the dim lighting, the coins glowed enchantingly…

Beguilingly…

_Come to me…_

It seemed to whisper/

Enticingly…

_Make me yours…_

An amorous plea.

It beckoned to him. Like a lover would…calling him to a warm bed…for delicious warmth on a winter night…Kuma wet his dry lips anxiously, fidgeting as his eyes locked on the seduction of his unquenchable greed.

"Mister Kuma?" His visitor's silky voice pushed him gently, persuasively out of his thoughts…a peaceful—though unseen—smile evident in his calm, soft tone. There was no hint of impatience. Just a knowing pause.

The turnkey looked up at him gingerly. "An ol' man died last night Milord…" The beady pools returned to the sparkling riches on his wooden table, skimming over every curve of the visible coins with obsessed possessiveness. "Perhaps som'tin' can be 'rranged…"

The ethereal smile on his guest's lips widened in satisfaction. "Excellent."

-XxxxX-

Chouji Akamichi stared down at the narrow stilted panel displayed soberly before him. The loud swoosh of the winter wind around him and the occasional swishing of his heavy cloak that came in harmony with the cold rustling breeze were the only sounds that met his senses, his mind trying to process a logical explanation to the oddity that met him.

Really.

He didn't understand why in the world the fatter-than-he turnkey would meet him outside the prison complex with a long wooden box. Wasn't he supposed to pick up Jiro Kiyoshi? Where was he? And what was with the _box_ all of a sudden?

Seriously, a _box_?

Chouji's russet orbs looked up from the inanimate object that was far from being a Kiyoshi captive to the armored men and the lone pig—er…goaler positioned in front of him, innocent confusion written evidently all over his features.

"Where…" He trailed off, unable to finish his question seeing the gaoler automatically bow his plump head down gravely, his beady, pig-like eyes downcast sorrowfully. "'M afraid we've come 'cross a little misfortune gov'na…"

Chouji stared hard at the small man with alarmed wide eyes. A straight grim line made his way to his food-loving lips waiting for the man to continue.

Why did he suddenly feel like he wasn't going to like what the man was going to say?

"'Mister Kiyoshi…'as departed ta a better place…gov'na"

It was a particular winter day where nothing seemed out of place. The sun was no where to be seen. Trees were leafless and the fields were enveloped in white. The lakes, frozen silver. Blankets and blankets of snow were all that were seen for miles and miles. Not a sign of life was in sight. Silence was the wielder of the wasteland.

That is, it was until the rattling of horse hooves broke the fragile entity into cool pieces. The perfect painting of a white wonderland, ruined by the ebony carriage trailing behind the two strong bucks.

The carriage twisted and turned along the slippery, ice sheltered road, unaware and, rather, unaffected by the blasts of cool wind.

And just as the rich ebony coach looked unaffected, the inhabitants inside were just as impassive to the cool weather. In fact, inside, the coach was far warmer and cozier. Something a certain silver haired lord was thankful for. He chuckled warmly to himself and turned his gaze to the dark haired young man he had just brought back.

"So…I assume your…ah…_visit_ at Root had been pleasant?" The silver haired man commented lightly, his silky smooth voice laced with cheeky humor.

His companion merely grunted without even sparing him a glance. He had his soulless onyx orbs plastered on the white winter picture painted up to last for three months. He really did _not_ want to talk about it.

"But you know, for someone who's been gone for almost a month now, you don't look too shabby though." The man speaking grinned, ignoring the other man's disinterest in the topic.

"Hn." Another grunt of disinterest.

He sighed. "Tsk. You know, it's not polite to ignore the man who can give you important information. And I thought I taught you well…"

At that said, his onyx gaze swung to his silver headed associate, an elegant dark eyebrow raised in question. "Information?"

"About Jiro Kiyoshi." He piped.

"What about him?"

"He's dead."

-XxxxX-

"De…Dead…"

The word was enough to knock the air out of her lungs. Like someone had just punched her unmercifully in the gut leaving her to wheeze for breath. Her knees felt like buckling. Her eyes wavering.

Sakura weakly looked up at her childhood friend, who had his own sad gaze down at the ground, fidgeting uncomfortably under her feeble inspection.

It wasn't a sick joke; she knew. She could see it in Chouji's distressed eyes.

But then again…she wasn't sure if what she saw was a good thing. Because if Chouji was really telling the truth then…

She glanced at the wooden panel lying silently in their wagon. Her mouth went dry.

_Then…he's really dead…_

"I…I think…I need to sit…down." She whispered faintly, feeling for something to hold on to behind her. She leaned against the tree trunk just as her knees buckled and gave in, plunging her down to the cool snow covered earth. "I don't believe this…" She covered her eyes with her arm in despair, tears beginning to prickle her green bejeweled eyes. "I'm _doomed_!"

"Sakura…" Chouji began sadly. He honestly didn't know what to say to her. He just knew that he dreaded telling her the news. And now that he's told her…well, dread hadn't been the right adjective to use.

He felt _awful_.

"What the hell!" An exasperated voice ground out, angry. "What do you mean he's _dead_?"

"He's dead. As in deceased, lifeless. Rotting!" Sakura growled out harshly. _This can't be happening!_

"Who would _die_ at a time like this?!"

Chouji turned away from his pink haired friend chanting 'I'm doomed, I'm doomed' under her breath all the while repeatedly hitting the back of her head against the tree trunk kind enough to support her. He looked down at the fuming brunet. "The…The turnkey said Mister Kiyoshi got into a brawl with the guards…said he was getting cocky 'cause he was getting out. They ganged up on him, and he died from the bruises."

"And you believed the bastard?!" the brunet exploded, eyes flaring.

"The body's inside the coffin Kiba…" Chouji answered dully.

"Shit…" Kiba looked away kicking the snowy ground in obvious frustration. "I don't believe this!"

For a time silence ensued after Kiba's outburst. No one knew what to say. What to think. What to _feel_. Their fate had been riding on Sakura's marriage to Jiro Kiyoshi. The whole town had been depending on it.

Jiro Kiyoshi was…in simple terms, supposed to be their savior.

Well kind of.

He was their savior from Count Inari at least. His family name would be enough.

But now that he's dead…

Well, they couldn't very well expect any resurrection happening anytime soon, now could they?

Sakura sighed, dejected. Well, there was no use moping around. She could still come up with a new plan. There was still time…no matter how little it was…She stood up, feeling her butt numb from sitting on the cold ground for too long and shook out the snow from one of her very few—if not the _only_—presentable gowns she had. It had been her mother's. The thought made her smile.

They—Jiro and she—were supposed to get married today…but now that he was dead…well it didn't take a genius to find out that no body was going wait for her at the altar at the moment.

"Alright!" She looked at both of her best friends, her _brothers_ with the firmness and determination she'd always exhibited in times of need. The same kind of determination that had enabled them to survive all this time. "Let's just bury the man,"

Kiba looked at her with disbelief. "Are you serious? That _man_—the _dead man_—practically took our whole month's budget! And what did he _do_?! Huh? Huh?! He died out on us! He didn't even wait for his hanging! Oh, hell _no_! _Hell no_! I am _not_ burying an ungrateful, cheating corpse! He can _rot_ away for all I care!"

Sakura stared up at her friend bleakly. "Kiba. That doesn't make any sense!"

"It does too!" was the brunet's retort, huffing in indignation. He felt crappy and frustrated.

He never liked Inari. _Nobody _liked Inari. And now that their only way out had just literally _died_ he wasn't sure what to think anymore. And being unsure was one the last thing he wanted to happen right now! He hated being unsure and uneasy. _For Pete's sake, why didn't we just kill the man?!_

"No it doesn't." Sakura sighed. Trust Kiba to start complaining. It was his best talent. It wasn't the man's fault he died…er…really.

"Does too!" Mud brown eyes tossed a glare at the pinkette.

"Does not!"

"Does too, too make sense!" He stuck his tongue out at her.

"Does so _not_!" She rolled her eyes at him.

"Uh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Ah-he-hem!" Chouji cleared his throat, trying and failing feebly to gain his friends' attention.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Uh…guys?"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"GUYS!"

"What?!" Heated green and mud brown glared turned to the hulking young man standing by their trusty wagon, their growls echoing throughout the silent meadow they were in.

Chouji paused, rummaging for something inside his heavy cloak before pulling out a bottle of wine. He smiled sheepishly at the duo. "He wasted our good wine too…"

"Our wine! _My_ wine!" A resounding gasp was heard from the brown haired young man snatching the small bottle from Chouji, cradling it in his arms with as much care and tenderness as one would hold a newborn baby. Then he turned his affectionate gaze to the lone female in the threesome, glaring at her in accusation. "What did you _do_?!"

Sakura pouted. "Nothing—"

"She mixed sleeping powder in it…" The biggest of the three chirped helpfully.

"Chouji!" Sakura glared at the hulking lad.

"What?" Chouji blinked.

"You _what_?!" Kiba exploded with disbelief and outrage.

"Oh shut up Kiba!" Sakura clucked, brushing off the brunet's outburst. Not really up for more of his 'Kiba moments'. She's had enough of it to last her a lifetime really. They did practically grow up together.

"You put _sleeping_ _powder_ in _my_ precious _wine_?!" Said brunet, however, prodded nonetheless, not letting the subject go. He and Akamaru were supposed to share it on a cold winter night! They had been saving it since, like, _forever_! What were they going to have now?

Stupid, cheating Sakura!

What would she do with tainted wine anyway? She didn't even _like_ wine!

"He wanted to sleep with me!" she explained with some exasperation, letting the words out in a swift huff.

Really! What did they want her to do? Really sleep with the man? She knew it was cheating though, but hey, didn't everyone else? I mean even Jiro cheated by dying!

"Who?!"

"Jiro." The girl answered stiffly, looking away in some shame at how low she's sunk.

Kiba blinked. "…What?"

Okay, now _that_ stopped him.

Chouji sweat dropped watching the childish—_very_ childish—banter between the two friends considering the fact that they were both already twenty-one years old. Seriously.

_Besides, if Kiba got any louder, he could cause an avalanche…And then Sakura would be really _pissed. He shuddered at the thought.

The lone female of the trio tilted her chin up defiantly at the noisy brunet. "He wanted to…to sleep with me,"

"Oh…"

"Yeah…It was their deal…" Chouji nodded with a weak sigh, making cool puffs of smoke appear. He was getting cold. He looked up at the sky and was about to say that it was starting to get dark. But before he could open his mouth and tell his friends it was time to head back home, Kiba beat him to it.

"Well that was stupid." Kiba said folding his arms in front of his chest, nodding firmly to himself.

"I know," The pinkette leaned against the tree trunk noticing that it was getting dark. _Maybe we should bury the corpse in the morning…_ "It was a stupid deal—"

"I mean, who'd be stupid enough to sleep with you of all people!"

"…" _What..? _Her expression stilled, a pink eyebrow twitching.

Okay…

So…it looks like Jiro Kiyoshi wasn't the only one going six feet under today after all…

_But at least now Mister Kiyoshi wouldn't be lonely down there anymore…_

Knuckles cracked. Necks snapped. Skulls shattered. Bones broke. Ribs tore.

Ah, yes.

Welcome to Sakura Haruno's carnage feast.

On the menu: Kiba Inuzuka.


	4. The Misfit

**Hooded Lies**

_The Misfit_

After a long night of staring up at the creaky rotting ceiling with sleepless green eyes, Sakura Haruno woke up that morning feeling like…well, like a hose's rear end. Or something unpleasant that came out of it at least.

She had no sooner opened her eyes did all her worries and frustrations of the night before come flooding back to her once again. The first thought that hit her like a bucket of cold water was of the prisoner, Jiro Kiyoshi. The second was the unsavory fact that…

_He's dead._

And it hit her like a hundred ton anvil. None too gently too.

She couldn't believe it was the end of her fool-proof plan even before it barely started; just like that! She groaned throwing a hand over her eyes in despair, letting herself drown in her own misery. How could this happen now when Inari was barely a fortnight away from returning to make her life hell again?

And to think, she thought she'd almost won. Now it was back to the drawing board again. And with even lesser time to prepare.

Talk about under pressure.

She doubted she could do the whole thing all over again, finding another prominent name from Root's prison complex. That damned Kuma would only swindle out more of her money. And she hardly had enough to last them a whole week. Let alone buy another prisoner's day of freedom and then pay for his burial services of course. God knew she'd spent enough money on Mister Kiyoshi, as useless as he was in the end.

And speaking of which…she actually had a burial to attend to.

_And unfortunately,_ she thought with a sardonic curve of her lips as she sat up from her hard bed. _It isn't mine._

Reaching for the thin blanket covering her from her waist to her tippy-toes, she draped it over her small shoulders letting her eyes sweep through her bedroom. From her small bed that hugged the gray, bare walls in one side of her room to the wooden table where her literary works across from her bed lay, just in front of the window where it would be an easy access of her to gaze outside and look for inspiration to the little dresser on the other side of the room, along with her elongated mirror that used to belong to her mother.

As for the things she herself owed, well, aside from her barren and fruitless lands and the rundown manor—both of which she inherited from her parents when they departed—where she and her family were residing now, she didn't have many. It was ironic when you think about it though; where her position in life stood.

An impoverished lady and marchioness driven to more impoverishment.

And what was even more ironic was that even rats were far richer than she was. And she had a title.

Oh how the mighty has fallen indeed.

Sakura rubbed her sleep-deprived face with both her hands and started pushing herself up from bed remembering to wear her worn slippers considering the cold weather they had of late and the really cold state of her bedroom, her threadbare coverlet snug around her shoulders offering her as much warmth as it could give—which was very little, by the way—despite the bone-splitting cold. She paused when she passed by her window and graced her green glance at her snow-covered lands outside, a small pang of pride and despair washing over her.

Sterile and nearly useless as it was, it was still hers. Hers alone. And she reveled with pride in that knowledge. For some, it was a curse. To be so young and filled with promise, burdened with such a huge responsibility of caring for her lands and tenants. And she was a female to boot.

But to Sakura, it was a blessing.

Not every girl as young as she was bestowed such a gift. To be able to hold lands of her own. To be able to decide for herself and be independent. To feel in control. To have a place of respite and comfort of her own.

Most girls barely had such freedom. They marry, they breed, they give birth. Or they don't. That was what was mostly in store for women in a world ruled by men, unfair as it was.

But here…within her lands…it was her own little world. And she ruled it. No one else. And she'd rather be damned to hell before she relinquished her hold to Count Gin Inari. She could take whatever crap he'd throw at her.

After all, she was poor, not vulnerable.

Of course, it hadn't always been like that for her, being poor. There was actually a time in her life where she enjoyed the luxury life despite the fact that it had been a rather short one. Ah, well, she guessed there were certain elements in this world that could bring one's downfall.

Her mother's death and gambling was her father's in particular.

She was only five then, when her mother died. Of some unknown sickness, some said. But then, only few people could see truth. And she saw it. _Knew _it. A truth that may never come out. At least, not until she could secure for her and her family's well being. The last thing she needed right now was an enemy to handle. Inari was a handful enough as it is. But whatever caused the former marchioness' death, it was a fact that it was what started the Haruno family's downfall.

Heartbroken and far beyond upset, the Marquess of Meadow had taken his mourning into a whole new level that fateful year his beloved wife died. He did the only this he thought he was capable of without breaking down. He did the one thing a man did to chase away his troubles. The only thing, Sakura guessed, that made her father's heart feel numb, because she was sure it ached. Ached and wrenched and convulsed.

More than she knew.

More than she could imagine.

He gambled and drank the world away. And within a span of one year, that very same year her mother died, he had managed to gamble off more than half of his possessions.

Thus their poverty.

But he kept on going. Drinking and gambling and numbing his heart until he couldn't even pay all his debts anymore. Until he's forgotten about _her_, his daughter.

Sakura didn't blame him though. She understood him. His grief. His suffering. His anguish.

Perhaps when she was five, she didn't. And she didn't understand why then. She didn't understand how bad it felt to be left alone by someone she loved so much.

Only wondered. She didn't weep but wondered. Wondered where that woman with soft pink hair and sparkling green eyes went. Wondered and asked why she wasn't singing her to sleep anymore. Wondered why that woman never came back and danced and played with her and tucked her to sleep. But she didn't feel the heartache her father endured.

And now, at twenty-one, she understood him perfectly. The loneliness, the torment…all of it.

She didn't blame him.

But then just as abruptly as his wife had died, the marquess disappeared one night.

Without a trace.

Rumors had circulated around the village for a time at how exactly the marquess disappeared. But regardless of how outrageous one story was to the next until it bordered on stupidity, the different rumors all ended the same.

He died.

At five, Sakura had been led to believe he died as well, leaving her the sole heiress to…well, everything they owned since no one knew where her father went or what happened to him.

That is, until a few years later…

"Kura! Kuraaaa!" The shrill call from the main hall downstairs echoed throughout the creaking manor, snapping the pinkette from her musings and plunging her back down to earth abruptly just as she heard hollow footsteps thudding across the creaking floorboards, echoing louder and louder with each step.

_What the…?_ She furrowed her brows at the ruckus going on so early in the morning. Her gaze snapped toward her wooden door and, in the next instant, it burst open with a loud _slam_.

_That can't be good…_She cringed at the possible damage it could've inflicted to both the wall and the door. The house was already in a sorry state as it is…

"Kuraaaa!"

Sakura glanced down at her younger brother running toward her excitedly, a large grin plastered on his lips flashing a set of white teeth and a missing tooth. She clucked her tongue down at him shaking her head in disapproval, hands finding their way to her hips. "Hey, you're going to tear this house down. You've been hanging around Kiba again, haven't you?"

The ten-year-old grinned up at her, unrepentant. "You bet! But Kura! You have to check this out!"

"Check what out?"

"_This_!" Konohamaru exclaimed breathlessly thrusting the morning paper into her hands.

"The paper?" An elegant pink eyebrow rose. She looked at it suspiciously, half wondering why a ten-year-old would hand her the morning paper of all things. The boy _has_ been hanging around Kiba. And with Dog Boy, you just never knew.

You just never knew…

"Uh-huh!" He nodded vigorously sending locks of rich brown hair flying across his face. He jumped up and down, getting adrenaline from his enthusiasm alone, sending the long blue scarf she had made him for Christmas sway with every energetically animated movement he made. "Read it! Read it! Read it! _Read it_!"

"Have you been eating something sweet this morning? I told Grandpa—"

"Sakura!" He cried out throwing his hands in the air, exasperated. "Just _read it_!"

"Fine, fine! What is this about anyway?" Sakura relented with a short chuckle bringing the paper closer to her for inspection. This better be good. _Or Dog Boy's going to have another tour around Hell again via my fist!_

"Only the most amazing person alive!" The little brunet jumped up and down in boyish excitement. You could practically see the stars sparkling in his eyes.

Sakura ignored the hyperactive boy hop and skip and fly around her room with such abandon and energy, it could bring the whole second floor down, and instead, focused on the paper given to her. The first thing she read was the headlines.

It read:

_Rakehell is back in town!_

"Rakehell?" The pinkette paused. _Where have I heard that before…?_

"He's the best!" Konohamaru exclaimed in the background just as emerald green orbs zoned in on the picture underneath the boldly printed text. She grew still, eyes going as wide as the wheels from their trusty beat-up wagon.

It wasn't that the picture was bad. Or that the picture was badly taken. It was actually the one _in_ the picture, so to speak. And no, he didn't _look_ bad. Just the opposite. The _very_ opposite. It was perfect.

_He_ was…_perfect_.

The picture she was staring at was the picture of an Adonis come to life. The picture of the very man who had young ladies, widows and women, married or otherwise, fall at his feet or even—dare she even go as far as—_kiss_ the very ground he walks on. And yes, she meant that _literally_.

All of it.

And, hm, yes…let's not forget! This was the very man who was going to lead their country.

The future of Fire.

The infamous rake.

The debaucher.

The epitome of scandal.

_Prince Sasuke Uchiha_.

"I want to be just like _him_!" Konohamaru all but praised.

And hearing that…Sakura all but exploded.

And then all Hell went loose…

"KIIIIIBAAAAAAA!"

_I'm going to _kill_ him!_ Sakura's glowing green orbs flashed with fury, screaming bloodshed and murder for her brunet friend. What has he been teaching her brother?! What ideas have he been planting in the poor kid's mind for the boy to think that…that…that _Sasuke Uchiha_ was someone to idolize!

The man was a well known womanizer, for God's sake! Preying on every virgin within a twenty meter radius from him without any remorse! A scandalous man bringing scandal after scandal into his revered royal family! A spoiled mama's boy with a big playground playing with the big boys! God, the man looked like he hadn't worked a day in his life! Every pore on him exuded sin, and, dear God in Heaven, how could a ten-year-old boy, and her brother no less, see this man as a hero? She doubted Konohamaru knew what this royal rogue even does in his spare time! Much less where!

If Kiba has been teaching him things a little boy shouldn't even have the privilege of knowing, God help her she was going to send him straight to Hell!

_Permanently._

"The two of you! Shut it! For Heaven's sake! You're going to cause an avalanche around here!" an elderly chide cut through the hazy red rage Sakura's thoughts had swirled in, suddenly cutting through her contemplation of different types of torture she had read people from the East did for punishment.

She turned her gaze to the old woman standing by the door with a stern frown taking hold of her wrinkle-edged lips, a pitcher on a tray in hand. The Haruno siblings stopped screeching at the top of their lungs all at once and gave the elderly a sheepish grin.

"Er, good morning, Grandmother Chiyo…" Sakura offered her a feeble meek grin. She wasn't succeeding in lifting the old woman's frown.

"Yeah! Good morning!" And neither was Konohamaru.

Walking over to Sakura's old mahogany dresser and setting the tray on it, Grandmother Chiyo turned to the guilty duo, her stern frown still in place. "Now, what were the two of you yelling about? You two know grandfather needs his rest."

"We're sorry…" Sakura said automatically, quietly.

Konohamaru, on the other hand, grinned wider, practically splitting his face in half. A mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. "My hero!"

Grandmother Chiyo turned to the little boy questioningly at the same time Sakura did. The pinkette knelt down him, a grave look on her face.

No seriously. To idolize someone like Prince Sasuke was just…wrong. At least he wasn't for a little boy like her brother to idolize. And Sakura, for one, was determined to correct that mistake. And then beat up Kiba for even letting the boy think that. She knew how much her Dog Boy friend envied the prince for having a harem of his own.

HA!

It wasn't that she had anything against the man. She didn't. Hell how could she? He was a prince! And she? A broke marchioness trying to survive for herself and her family. She wasn't spewing treason against the Crown. God knew she was as loyal as Dog Boy was to his own dog to King Fugaku. It was just that their future king just had his morals…er…_or the lack thereof_…misplaced.

_Yeah…that's it…_Sakura sweat dropped. _Now how am I going to explain this to a ten-year-old?_

"Um, Konohamaru, listen." She started slowly, choosing her words carefully. The boy looked at her as she rested a hand on his shoulder. Looking into his happy deep brown eyes, a rush of love and warmth washed over her, wrapping around her heart, pushing away all those worries and frustrations she had of Jiro Kiyoshi and Inari making the corners of her lips lift up in a small tender smile.

"Yeah?" Konohamaru tilted his head to the side, gazing at his beloved sister, the only parent he's ever known since their father and his mother died when he was barely two, nine years ago, in curious bewilderment.

"See, Rakehell is…not really the kind of person you should be looking up to…"

"Who?"

Sakura sighed dismally. "Prince Sasuke,"

"Oh." The boy blinked up at his sister looking fairly…_confused_. What the hell was Kura talking about?

A moment of grim silence followed, with Sakura expecting Konohamaru to agree, and the little boy trying to process what his sister was talking about in his mind.

_Maybe Sakura likes him._ Konohamaru finally shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and, not wanting to offend his sister in someway, relented. "I guess Prince Sasuke's kinda cool too. But the Night Phantom is _much_ cooler! I'm going to be _just like him_ when I grow up!"

"…" She blinked.

The brunet smiled up at his sister.

"…" And blinked.

"…Kura?"

"Excuse me? Who?"

Konohamaru beamed up at her with a dashing smile, eyes sparkling. "The Night Phantom! Y'know, the King's road thief! The one that steals from the rich and gives to the poor!"

"You were talking about the Night Phantom?"

"Uh-huh! He's there on the third page of the paper!" He took the morning paper from Sakura's other hand opening it briskly to the indicated page, his grin still so wide, it made Sakura unconsciously wonder if it was good for a little boy to grin so much…

"And…you weren't talking about Prince Sasuke?"

"Nope! Who said anything about Prince Sasuke?" Konohamaru answered gazing down exultingly at the morning newspaper.

"Thank God." Sakura's shoulders drooped with relief at the knowledge. As much as she respected the royal family, Prince Sasuke Uchiha was just not a very good example for little boys. _Although I'm not sure a highway man stealing loot is any better, but at least we're getting somewhere…_

"Why?" Konohamaru asked her curiously, tearing his gaze away from the newspaper to his pink-haired sister.

"Because…he's a rake."

"The prince is a garden tool?"

"Erm…no…?"

"Alright, alright you two! Enough of garden tool talks already! Breakfast is ready downstairs." Grandmother Chiyo interrupted abruptly seeing where the conversation was headed, much to Sakura's relief, and tried hustled both of them like the mother hen she truly was to the dining table downstairs.

"Are the boys here yet?" The pinkette suddenly asked the old woman as she began fixing the scarf along her brother's neck remembering that they were going to bury the Kiyoshi captive today.

"Kiba and Chouji and Shino are coming?" Konohamaru brightened up instantly at the mention of _"the boys"_, his favorite trio, breaking free from Sakura's grasp and ran for the open door. "I'll go wait for them downstairs! I can't wait to tell Kiba who made to the paper today! Yeah!"

"Ah, Konohamaru—" The pinkette started just as her little brother slipped out of the door and bounded down the stairs with thudding steps.

She sighed.

Yep.

This house wasn't going to last long…She just knew it. She stood up and sauntered over to where Grandmother Chiyo, now smiling tenderly at the child's antics, stood. "Honestly, if he keeps running up and down like that, we're going to go homeless before you know it."

Grandmother Chiyo heft out a hearty chuckled of fondness, turning to the girl she and her brother had taken care of since the unfortunate death of her mother, looking deep into those twinkling jaded pools she knew took well. "Even with different mothers, the two of you still have a lot in common."

"Really? I was that…er…_energetic_?" Somehow she doubted it.

"Of course! Trouble follows you everywhere, Sakura! Even now. Just like young Konohamaru," Grandmother answered in an affectionate tone before walking out the door to care for the ten-year-old delinquent.

Sakura shook her head at the old woman before proceeding on pouring some water from the pitcher to the washing bowl, slowly bending down to wash the remains of sleep from her face smiling contentedly.

Even though Konohamaru was only her half-brother, she loved him with all her heart, like her own full blooded brother. He was the only true family she had left. A reminder of her father…that at least…at least before he died, his heart hadn't been remained numb. Because he managed to love Konohamaru's mother.

Grandmother Chiyo and Grandfather weren't her real relatives. They weren't her real grandparents…and come to think of it, she didn't really know her real ones either. But the two of them took her in when she was five. Right after her mother died and her father started drinking and gambling.

And they taught her everything she knew. From reading and writing to identifying herbs to mixing healing potions for the sick—courtesy of Grandmother Chiyo—to handling pistols to swinging swords and mixing gun powders for bombs and ammunition—courtesy of Grandfather, a former colonel for the royal army.

She owed everything to them. They were a family. No matter how messy and confusing their relationship might be. The four of them. Konohamaru, Grandmother Chiyo, Grandfather and she.

And for the four of them, her lands were a refuge to run to. Their home. Sakura's world. Konohamaru's future. Grandmother and Grandfather's resting place. And the other souls that depend on her lands' sanctuary.

That was why she couldn't—_wouldn't_ lose to Inari.

_The game's far from over Inari! _She thought in a new resolve, radiating with determination as she reached for a towel, patting her face with it. She looked at herself on the mirror, saw her eyes flash. _And you're going down! _

-XxxxX-

"Whoa, what happened to you?" Kiba Inuzuka, the resident knucklehead, gaped at his pink-haired best friend the second she entered the dining some moments later. Dark circles were visible under her eyes, contrasting heavily against her alabaster skin.

"Not enough sleep, Sakura?" Chouji, resident pig, asked, never pausing from inhaling the food in front of him.

"Ugh, no." The pinkette groaned out. She walked over to the table her half-brother, Kiba and Chouji were situated in, eating—or in Chouji's case, _inhaling_—their breakfast.

"Yeah. She's been busy thinking about Prince Sasuke all night." Konohamaru chimed in, teasingly as he dug into his omelet remembering her sudden interest on the young prince earlier that morning.

"No, I wasn't!" Sakura protested, turning a light shade of red. And it was the truth too. She hadn't been thinking about the prince.

At least not _last night_…

But then again, she'd sooner swallow one of her bombshells than admit that on any other night…she just possibly…perhaps…maybe…_might've_…?

…

What?

Can you blame her?

Oh, what girl wouldn't fantasize about the man?

He was a walking, breathing, _smirking_ Greek god, for heaven's sake! All his morals—or the lack of it—aside though, the prince was every girl's wet dream. And it didn't help that she's seen him in person before too, when she and Grandmother Chiyo went grocery shopping at Leaf last fall.

He had been across the street from them with his current mistress, a pretty little redhead named Karin (Sakura knew her name since they've been all over the papers since they got together), dangling on his arm. They were coming out from a jewelry store, and Sakura had been struck into a stupor for a moment staring at the lovely looking couple. Not just because they were a pair made in heaven, but because a human part of her felt a sharp pang of longing looking at them.

To be as rich as the prince…

If she only had that much money to waste…

All the prince ever did was waste it. His money. Showering his mistresses with gifts and useless baubles and expensive satins and silks that cost as much as acres of lands.

If she had that much money…well, let's just say, she and her people wouldn't be in this current predicament, starving.

_Well, I guess some people are just made for fortune and glory. While some just has to work for it. _She sighed at the thought.

Kiba and Chouji looked at each other from across the table, blinked and then burst out laughing so loud and hysterically chucks of food went flying in the air and onto Sakura's face from their mouths. Hell even Kiba's huge white dog, Akamaru, who was sitting on the floor by his owner, started howling in doggy amusement.

"Right…" The lone female in the room commented dryly, wiping spit and crumbs off her face gingerly with her fingers. Ick. Men.

Kiba fell off his chair to the floor and stayed there withering, gripping his sides in the hilarity of it all. Wiping a stray tear from his eyes, he tried to gasp for breath. "Oh, that was rich!"

"Yeah, and so are your manners." The pinkette grumbled, glaring green daggers at the two young men. Jeez. "Oh, will you two shut up already!"

Kiba just burst out howling even louder from the wooden floor.

Sakura a vein popped on her forehead. _Why am I friends with them again? And for eleven years too!_

"Sorry…sorry…we're sorry, Sak…" Chouji offered in between laughter, his food long forgotten, tipping over his chair…which was threatening to break under his weight by the way…

Uh-oh…

"Yeah! We know you're as attracted to the prince as you are to Inari's as—ow! What was that for?" Dog Boy started but was cut short from his hyena laughing when a certain pinkette's fist suddenly collided with his skull rendering it numb.

_Numbskull._

"Not in front of my brother, idiot!" She hissed venomously at the older brunet. Seriously. How stupid can Kiba get?

"That hurt!"

"I know." She smirked, satisfied. With a dismissive sigh, she let her green orbs survey they room trying to see if everyone of her gang was present. An over sized dog, a loudmouth brunet, a food-loving Yeti and a ten-year-old with a missing tooth. She sweat dropped.

Okay…talk about abnormal.

But then she furrowed her brows, noticing that someone from their mismatched party was missing. She turned to Chouji who had decided to _finally _stop laughing and went back on inhaling their food again. "Eh…Chouji, where's Shino?"

"He's—"

"Here," The silent bug man answered, as the door leading outside opened, sending wisps of cool winter air sweep inside the cozy dining room. He nodded to his friends and then proceeded to close the door.

"Shino! Where've you been man! Have some food!" Kiba greeted with a wide toothy grin. Akamaru barked his welcome, tailing wagging.

Shino, a bizarre boy who wore thick sunglasses, even when there wasn't any said _sun_, shook his head in decline. "No, thanks." He turned to Sakura. "Do you still have Jiro Kiyoshi's release papers?"

Sakura nodded slowly, looking at his curiously. "Why?"

"I went to church this morning," He started casually as if he was commenting on the weather, scratching Akamaru's ear as he neared.

His childhood friends stared at him.

"To church?" Sakura turned to Kiba in disbelief, and then to Chouji.

They burst out laughing. And This time, Chouji _did_ break Sakura's loyal chair.

Now, _that_ was rich!

Who would've thought that Shino, the guy who practically _praised_ and _worshipped_ bugs, so much so that he practically had a hive for a home, was a religious person! In all the years the trio's known him, it was actually the first time he's mention something so…well, something that actually has _something_ to do with God.

"Shino? A-are you sick?" Sakura, red-faced, managed to ask, bracing her hands on the table to keep her knees from buckling under her from trying to swallow her own hysterical laughter.

The dark-haired young man shook his head no, not caring that his friends were laughing at him. Well, that was why he was the strange one right…? "Yes. And I also found out how you can push through with your marriage."

And that said, all laughter died down…replaced by grim silence.

_What?_

"You did?" Chouji finally asked, cutting through the think blanket of stillness that shrouded and suffocated them.

Shino nodded calmly at him.

"And you found that out by going to church?" Though a little skeptical, Sakura's tone told everyone she was intent on finding what the guy had in mind.

Again, Shin nodded in confirmation.

"Ooookay…I blame the bugs…" Kiba whispered under his breath, but stayed silent after that.

Sakura rolled her eyes at him and looked at Shino with serious green eyes. They knew better than to discard any of Shino's suggestions. He was the calculating one in their little party after all. And most of the time, he was right. They trusted the young man's judgment…no matter how…er…_odd_ he came up with it.

Sakura turned to her brother. "Konohamaru. Take Grandfather's breakfast to him upstairs."

Konohamaru looked up at her with a childish frown. "What?"

"Now."

"Fine." He sighed grudgingly, and went into the kitchen to fetch the food. He wanted to hear what Shino had to say…And who was Jiro anyway? _Stupid Kura! _

Once the young boy was out of sight, Shino stepped forward and took a seat beside Chouji. Sakura sat beside Kiba.

The meeting has officially started.

Green orbs stared straight thought the dark lenses of her friend. "Shino…how?"

"Father Jiraya…"

"The local parish priest?" Chouji's eyebrows rose, his food completely forgotten now. And anyone who knew him would know by now that that was how grave the situation was.

"He used to be a writer, right?"

Kiba snorted leaning back comfortably on his chair. "Chyah! An _erotic_ writer!"

"But a writer all the same." Shino said sticking to business.

"What're you talking about?" Sakura asked, not catching his drift at all.

Shino turned to look at her. "He's agreed to help us."

"You don't mean…?" Sakura trailed off, her eyes narrowing at the dark headed young man, uncertain. Was he saying that…

Shino merely nodded once at her. "Yes. He's agreed to forge Kiyoshi's signature."

_No way!_


	5. The Notorious

**Hooded Lies**

**Dedicated****to:** My most avid reader and reviewer _**inu-babygirl**_, who is always so enthusiastic with my works. It's always a pleasure hearing from you. I appreciate your undying support! I hope you enjoy this long, long, _long_ chapter to make up for the year I have been out of commission. Read on!

_The Notorious_

Despite the visit of the miserable drought and Count Gin Inari's evil reign, the small hamlet that was Meadow was still the bustling and busy place it used to be. The townspeople were still a happy lot. The snow-covered streets were still alive with activity. Matrons of various shapes and sizes still littered the walkways and shops, gossiping and merrily debating amongst themselves. Shopkeepers still greeted and speculated with their costumers inside their respective establishments. Musical tones of laughing children still rang blissfully throughout the area; the whinnying of geldings and donkeys by the roads, the playful barking of mischievous dogs running amok, and the wild clucking of runaway chickens serving as accompaniment.

It was a sight to see.

A happy sight.

No one was out of hope. No one was disheartened. No one was giving up.

And it was all because of one remarkable young man.

Fire's very own Robin Hood.

Her romantic criminal.

Her heroic riffraff.

The lower class's handsome and brave icon.

The _Ton_'s wretched and utterly elusive adversary.

The _Night __Phantom._

The lawless man who robbed from the rich and gave to the poor.

Cynics say the young highwayman was as courageous as he was foolish. But then, a lot of people never really had much sense to tell one from the other. Nevertheless, the lad brought color and intrigue, hope and justice to the lower class, and for that he was much loved, while their counterpart hungered for his guts.

He was a man, many would say, that came straight out of a story book; books that told of graceful and handsome rouges seeking justice and repentance from unfair lords; the kind of man who would save damsels in distress; a knightly man straight out of King Arthur's court.

And animatedly, the tales of him were spun, odes were dedicated, poems made. All of Fire spoke of his name, of his fame, whether in reverence or in spite, it didn't matter, for the icon was a force and a hero in his own right.

The poor portrayed of his grandeur; the rich, his demise. The Unfortunate saw him as their savior, their redeemer, protector. The Fortunate saw him as a mindless thief, a murderer, a coot. Peasants held him in high-esteem; Nobles spat and shuddered at the sound of his name.

And yet, though both social classes of Fire were worlds apart, there was one thing they had in common. Something the famed highwayman left questioned in his wake.

His true identity.

To both parties, he was an enigma. A mystery yet unsolved. Both were curious, both eager to know of the infamous man's true face. And in such a small town like Meadow where people knew each other, interacted with each other almost all their lives, word traveled lighting fast and gossip rumbled like quaking thunder. And, indeed, even now, the tales of the legendary outlaw was gurgling all throughout the village—_all __throughout __Fire_—with frightening ferocity and admiration.

"Great man, that Night Phantom."

"Aye, true men! Him an' his crew!"

"Dreamy, isn't he?"

"I heard he's devastatingly gorgeous!"

"Peculiar lad though. 'E always 'as that mask o' his—kind of shady, don't ye think?"

"I 'eard he's rescued a liedy from 'em vile bounders in a neighboring village. Claims 'em engaged too."

"Lies! 'At chit's pro'ly lyin'!"

"Them bandits stripped a frilly lordie I hear! Tied him to a tree buck naked too!"

"Well, ain't that clever!"

"Aye, the lad's a hero."

"'As a heart o' gold, I tells ye!" The bubbling townspeople merrily alleged.

But for all their heartfelt adoration and admiration towards the loved outlaw, no one could ever surpass the devotion one little boy of the Haruno household harbored.

Because, to the little lad, the Night Phantom was the kind of man he's ever wanted to be and more.

_Much, __much __more._ The young brunet thought with a shining grin as he swept a reverent gaze down at the picture of his bandit hero he'd cut out from yesterday's morning newspaper.

With a gleam of boyish excitement sparkling in his deep set of dark orbs, he looked up at his accomplices with a large and knowing beam. "So are you guys ready for this or what?" He asked in ill-concealed zeal, his breath coming out in small puffs of smoke and misting around his childishly round face.

"As ready as I'll ever be, Boss!" Moegi piped up shrilly, nodding and clapping her glove-encased hands together, eager and fairly twittering with enthusiasm, pumped up for the thrill to come. _This __is __going __to __be __so __much __fun!_

Udon shifted uncomfortably from where he stood, his big boots buried deep in the snow, sniffing back the mucus trailing down his pert, stuffy nose. He wiped the sticky substance with his dark scarf and looked up at the other boy with his misting spectacles. "Uh…I think so…"

"All right then!" Konohamaru exclaimed as he whirled around to face the fortress of leafless trees that lined in stout attention around his little town, his long blue scarf swaying fluidly around him as he did. He looked up at the slow procession of the setting sun, and grinned.

Tonight, an adventure was about to begin.

Tonight, a legacy was going to be born.

_Tonight_, they—Konohamaru, Moegi and Udon—were going to become part of the _King__'__s __Road __Bandits_.

"Let's do this!"

-XxxxX-

The night was a festive one at the Pavilion Theatre where an immortalized tale was being spun; a sultry tale of a worldly man and his life of endless debauchery. Music that was Mozart's _La __ci __darem __la __mano_ filtered through the showplace like a thunderously lulling blanket of rising crescendos in silver resonance. Chorusing voices of tenor and soprano, alto and bass bounced off the gilded walls and sank through the plush curtains, making love to each other in twining melody even as the greatest lover of all time seduced a guileless young country bumpkin in expert finesse. The excitement was palpable. The fervor was tangible as creamed butter.

The winking of opera glasses and the underlying buzz of muted whispers, however, betrayed where the audience's glittering fascination exactly lay for it did not lie on the illumined podium where Giacomo Casanova charmingly posed, but on the first and finest theatre box, stage right on the mezzanine, perched just above the orchestra.

Delicately sculpted with cherubs, seductively draped with plush curtains, expensively decorated with intricate urns and plasterwork ribbons, and luxuriously pampered with rich pillows, it was the one place in the theatre not just anyone had access to—the box permanently reserved for royalty.

And there he sat, unmoving, at the carved marble railing, half shrouded in the shadows that welcomed him. His face, the very replica of perfection as it was, was an expressionless mask against the warm light coming from the enormous dais, reflecting the eye-catching glint on his signet ring—the authentic sign of his position, his significance, his birthright, his very being.

It gleamed in regality, and played over the patrician angles of his flawlessly angular face and brought an ethereal glow to his lustrous ebony locks. The small luminous light softly lapping over what it could of his profile, as if in a vain attempt to reclaim him from the darkness that engulfed him, suited him.

And when he moved for the first time since the presentation started, a slow, carelessly graceful gesture of reaching into his waistcoat pocket to retrieve a flat metal tin, his onlookers had to restrain themselves from rippling all over. He took a peppermint, placed it in his mouth and caused a stir among the female population all around the domelike structure of the opera house, blushing as they watched him suck at the treat absently, fluttering their fans, suddenly feeling hot.

Around the theatre box, the favored members of his entourage lazed with an air of idleness that hid the hard, hooded eyes and the weapons under their immaculate clothes, perfecting the ideal image of highborn, sullen young lords. A few of them smelled of opium, clinging to their rich clothing…though some went even further than the rest, but then, all of Fire knew that, when it came to _him_, everything was allowed.

_Everyone_ knew who he was, what he was.

He was the epitome of scandal. He was beauty personified.

The devil's incarnate spawned by Adonis himself.

He was a show, a masterpiece, all on his own. And everyone knew that too. A fact proven even as his audience trembled in anticipation and watched him with bated breath—admiration, fascination, wonder, lust and curiosity shining in their eyes.

He was a pleasure seeker so unlike his militant father…and despite the dangers he presented to the pretty ladies of court, having already seduced thousands among thousands, and perhaps even to himself with his prodigal and scandalous ways, still the high world courted him.

His presence at a party made it fashionable; his snub spelled doom. His favor gained awe; his disapproval meant condemnation.

Because in a world of glittering ballrooms, where money and gossip made the world go round, where the sparkling creatures of vanity were ruthless—he was god.

A fact that did not escape His Royal Highness.

"Your Highness?" one of his gilded lackeys whispered out from his left, holding out a crystal flask of fine wine.

And yet…in spite of all that…in spite of all he had, all he was offered and all he was, he still couldn't help but feel…well, bored—

Crown Prince Sasuke Uchiha merely flicked a bejeweled hand, a sign of refusal and brushed off the proffered carafe, his darkly brooding gaze never leaving the succulent figure of his fiery demimonde mistress on the podium.

—empty.

_Like __a __nutshell._ He brooded in that cynical mood he was in.

Just like a damned empty nutshell, devoid of anything.

Of contentment.

Of purpose.

See, being born of a great man was a hard thing. That fact wasn't hard to tell. Sasuke knew that far better than anyone; yet, by some twisted wind of fate, he had somehow managed to get himself sired by one who was not only a man of ultimate greatness, but was also evidently—if not lamentably—immortal.

_The __old __goat __was __just __determined __to __live __forever, __wasn__'__t __he? _came a bitterly wry thought, though his face remained as accurately emotionless and beautifully statuesque as a Grecian sculpture.

Even Itachi couldn't outlast him. Sasuke doubted he would too.

Oh, but don't get him wrong or anything. He did not by any means wish his father's demise, no. That would just be downright low unbefitting of a _prince_ of his stature. He didn't even hate his old sire. It was just that, in the light of the fact that King Fugaku Uchiha's grandeur was doubtless never to end…he would also doubtlessly remain as he was in the shadows, unseen by anyone but him.

A puppet.

His father's pretty, polished little puppet, unable to move in control of his own destiny, forever stringed to the norms of High Society, trapped in the mercy of a court he was forced to entertain.

Time was flying by and he was getting nowhere. He was still left with no means to break free.

Next fall he would turn twenty-five, but, really, had any aspect of his life changed significantly since he was, oh, say, eighteen?

A wry little smirk made its way to his luscious lips.

Well the answer to that was obvious, wasn't it?

…

No?

Well then. There it was.

A big. Fat. _No_.

He still had the same friends, still played the same games, still languished with the same pointless luxuries, still locked in a sparkling world of vanity.

In other words, he was no more than a prisoner. A lavished prisoner of his rank restrained in golden shackles…_and_ a diamond muzzle.

Perhaps those maniacs at the complex had been doing him a favor. Perhaps following Itachi's fate had been the best thing, the _only_ thing, for him to do to claim his freedom. Because surely even Hell, with all its tormenting flames and grim brimstones, would've suited him just fine too, really.

_Anything_ had to be better than having every matter concerning his very existence that was of any consequence at all debated over, voted on, and approved of by the court, the newspapers, the _Ton_, the whole damned senate…the whole _country_.

Everyone was a critic.

Go figure.

He felt more of a convict about to hang than a prince of royal descent with so-called privileges; not a man of his own, but an overgrown teenager, and, Lord, he was tired of it.

He was so sick of all these…these roles he was forced to play….but he had given up arguing with the king about giving him some meaningful task worthy of his education and abilities. It was useless anyway. The old tyrant just refused to part with even an ounce of his power.

All because he wasn't Itachi, the trophy son.

All because he was only Sasuke, the second son.

_The __prodigal __son_.

In Father's eyes, he would never be good enough.

_No __matter._ What the old windbag thought didn't really matter anymore. He had more important things to think about than his life at this echoless realm of midpoint he found himself eternally suspended in, this warped zone of his meaningless existence.

Those bastards were back; there was no doubt about it. After seven years of hiding, they were finally back to finish what they started, to finish the havoc they have purposely wrench on Sasuke's life.

And now they were ready to move in for their next kill. Perhaps even their final kill.

Namely, _him_.

But he was ready. Seven years was a long time after all. He'd grown. He'd learned.

_Patience_.

That was all he needed now. Everything was in order, and all he had to do now was sit and watch. Preparation was everything, and he had been all but meticulous. He was going to show them that revenge wasn't going to be as sweet for them as it was going to be for him.

_They__'__re __going __to __pay._ He thought darkly. Grimly.

Oh, they were going to pay. Dearly.

-XxxxX-

The rectory was a quaint little place, made radiantly warm and inviting for any and every world-weary traveler or homeless pilgrim. The little cottage was homey with its modest little fireplace situated in a friendlily simple drawing room; the walls encased in comforting hues of blue wallpapers; the furniture, plain and charming—it was a comforting little abode, a home anyone would have expected of a good-natured priest like one such as Father Jiraya.

That is, until one got a good look at his study room.

And then all of his amiably wise and agreeable front would all come crashing down, because for a man sworn to a life of chastity and abstinence, the sight of his personal office only gave outrageous evidences that the preacher was appallingly anything _but_ celibate!

The crude paintings of naked women hanging every which way across the wallpapered walls and the life-sized Grecian statue of a _naked__man_ pressed up shockingly close to an equally _naked__woman_, their bare chests touched—more like flattened—against each other's, their limbs wound provocatively around each other; the marbled man's mouth attached onto the stone woman's erotically arched neck and her frozen expression one could only describe as pure and uninhibited pleasure…were clearly scandalous and horrific proofs of the holy man's true nature.

His true _perverted_ nature.

Now, the fact that the friendly priest was a former writer of, er, extremely passionate books were not entirely lost to Sakura and her friends, no, but seriously.

Wasn't taking this skeleton in the closet thing a little too far?

Because this just took the whole concept of _closet __pervert_ to a whole new level.

And honestly?

_None_ of them knew how to react to that. Well, properly, that is.

Brother Ebisu supposed they _were_ taking it well. He surveyed his guests with a concerned glance; saw that Lady Sakura looked constipated. The tavern owners' son Chouji felt like he was about to faint. Shino Aburame, the local scholar's son, appeared to be shocked behind his heavily tinted glasses for his eyebrows shot higher than the sky. And Kiba Inuzuka…Kiba, well, he was on the floor swimming in his own blood, bleeding to death from a severe case of nosebleed.

When the young visitors finally regained their, no doubt scattered, bearings, it was the brunette, Kiba, who managed to utter the first comment. Not that it was any surprise or anything, really. The Dog Boy was practically panting with enthusiasm at the enlightening sights before him. "Holy shit."

Ebisu bristled at the words. "Sir!" This was the house of God, damn it!

"Oh, dear heavens." Sakura added in a pained voice, her face as red as that delicious lobster cuisine Chouji's mama made down at the Akamichi Tavern.

"Sakura…Make it stop…" The big hulk that was Chouji sounded like he was about to cry, wanting nothing more than to gobble up the closest plate of mash potatoes and call for his mommy. _Make__it__stop!__Make__it__stop!_

"…I see. So humans do mate differently from insects." And that was Shino.

His friends stared at him. He shrugged.

Okay…

The holy advocate sweat dropped. Yes. They were taking it rather well…er…yeah…

Clearing his throat in an effort to divert his visitors' attention, Sakura, Chouji, Shino and Kiba seemed to snap out of their mortified, scandalized, surprised and…excited—respectively—stupors, thankfully…not that he could blame them. The first time he'd been here which was years ago, he'd had nightmares for weeks.

When it came right down to it, Father Jiraya was a scary, scary man.

"Yes, well. My deepest apologies, my lady." He started, fumbling for words. He looked at Lady Sakura with an imploring gaze. "Father Jiraya asked me to take Her Ladyship here and to tell you that he…will be with you shortly…he still had to finish some important business…"

"Will—will he be long?" Their pink haired lady managed to squeak out bravely though her strained expression betrayed how freaked out she really was.

Ebisu smiled down at her sympathetically. He felt sorry for her…having to see such indecent things. And in a rectory of all places! Really, what was Father Jiraya thinking? "I—"

"Ah, Lady Sakura!" A deep, scratching voice boomed throughout the office, cutting off the brother's empathic explanation, before the ever eccentric Father Jiraya stepped into his study and made his grand entrance with a large and brilliant smile that made the jolly laugh lines on his cheeks prominently visible, his long white hair swishing about him mystically with his clean white robes. He opened his arms in welcome.

"Father." Lady Sakura Haruno bobbed a curtsy, a strained smile glued to her lips as her friends acknowledged the old priest with stiff nods.

Well all except maybe for Kiba who was having too much fun gawking at the naked pictures.

…What?

He was a hot blooded male at the prime of his time, seriously! The least he could do was have fun, right? So what if their priest was a bit of a pervert. So what if he had a collection of lewd photos and, ooh, is that the sacred book _Kama__Sutra_?

If Father Jiraya wasn't the old perv that he was, the brunet doubted they would even be here, asking for the man's sincere cooperation to their biggest con yet.

The thought made him smile to himself. Everyone in town was cooperating, helping them take down Inari. No one was going to let that bastard win!

To say the least, the idea was really comforting.

"To be frank, Lady Sakura, I didn't know you were interested in my knowledge of the…forbidden, but I'm always prepared to help a good friend in need." Jiraya said sagely as he drew near, his face as serious as it had been when he delivered Jiro's funeral.

At the minister's supportive words, Sakura couldn't help but smile, momentarily forgetting the bawdy setting they were situated in. She was infinitely thankful that someone was ready to lend a helping hand to their cause…however underhanded it was…

But as she's said before: Desperate times call for desperate measures. And, apparently, desperate also meant running for the only person who would help anyone.

A man of God.

"This means so much to us. We can't thank you enough for agreeing to do this."

"Don't mention it, my lady." The older man bowed respectfully to their lady of the land, before turning to his guests at large and cheerfully asked, his eyes crinkling merrily, chipper as a morning bird. "Now, my friends, are you all set for your first lesson?"

Sakura's brows furrowed in confusion after that. Wait a minute. What lesson?

Somehow, she had the sinking feeling that they were having two different conversations at the same time.

"Lesson? What lesson?"

"Why, my lady, aren't you here for my exclusive lecture on _sex __education_?" Jiraya asked with all the innocence of a choirboy.

Ironic, really.

Sakura paled. "I…I-I, _no_!"

She turned to her friends for help—they were _men_ after all—because _oh,__God,_ she was not going to have this conversation with a priest. A priest, damn it!

But, sadly, Chouji was on the other side of the room, sulking in a corner, too traumatized to even think and Shino was too busy contemplating the comparison of the mechanics of human mating to that of the insects he loved. Kiba looked too engrossed with an ancient looking book, muttering something about positions…whatever that meant.

And then…it hit her.

Oh, man…

She was going to have to get out of this on her own, wasn't she?

Inwardly, she cried.

Perfect. Just perfect.

This was going to be _so_ awkward…

"No?" Jiraya blinked blankly.

"Of course not!" She squeaked. She couldn't help it. Ironic as it was, Sakura knew she could handle four drunkards at a tavern without even breaking a sweat than talking to Father Jiraya about…about _this_.

They were going to talk about _sex_, for Pete's sake!

She wasn't supposed to be exposed to that until she was, oh, say, _married_? Something she wasn't even planning on doing, in, like, _ever_!

"But Ebisu told me you were coming for a meeting about sex." The old preacher reasoned out.

_Sex._ _Why__does__he__say__that__so__casually?_ Her tortured thoughts cried out in dismay. Mechanically, she turned to Brother Ebisu standing at the corner of the room with a haunted expression on her face.

Ebisu blushed deeply, stuttering in embarrassment. "I-I did not! Father! I said that Lady Sakura was coming for a meeting with you at around _six_!"

"Six. Oh. Oh, I must have mixed it up when I was writing about a really passionate moment between Yukie and Natsume…" The old priest said faintly, pensively.

Sakura tried not to choke on her own spit.

Just then, he turned to the lady, a hopeful look on his wrinkled features. "Do you still want the lesson though?"

"No!" Sakura gasped out, mortified that the preacher would even think that, heaving for breath and struggling for calm.

Jiraya pouted. "Then…why are you here?"

"For…for the _marriage __contracts_."

"Marriage—Oh! Oh, the proxy marriage!" Jiraya's eyes sparkled at those words, a knowing smile spreading across his lips. "Ah, yes!" He cackled deeply and with a sweep of his arm, he led Sakura across the room to his oaken worktable. "Yes, my lady, I remember now. Shino told me all about this…this man you are marrying…"

"Er, Jiro Kiyoshi?"

Jiraya nodded. "Yes, Kiyoshi."

Sakura sighed with relief. Finally, they were back in business. Thank goodness! She didn't think she could handle anymore talk on the intimacy between a man and a woman. "You've seen the papers I sent? Can you really copy his signature?"

"Of course. Don't underestimate my abilities, Sakura. You should know better than that."

Sakura smiled sheepishly in response.

"But, I must say, the man, this Jiro, is very interesting." And as the old priest said it, there was a twinkle in his eyes that spoke of mischief.

Suspiciously, Sakura agreed. "I'm certain that he was."

"Was. Yes, _was_."

-XxxxX-

After what seemed like an eternity or so and Casanova was dragged off to the deepest pit of Hell, the opera finally came to an applauding close…though everyone knew no soul in the room paid any scant attention to it.

Prince Sasuke stood and left his box, his followers trailing behind him. He moved down the marbled hall and stared straight ahead, looking neither right nor left even as he ignored the eagerly beaming people making way for him and his entourage with a grace only he could perfect.

He didn't care for pleasantries with all these _supposedly_ nice people. Especially when he knew that these _nice_ people wanted a scrumptious bite at him. Like…Like this stout, beak-nosed and sharp-eyed woman with towering blonde hair trying to presently stop him.

She looked vaguely familiar …

"Your Highness," she hailed, bobbing into a deep curtsy that almost earned her hooked nose an introduction with the marble floor, gushing and blushing giddily as she did. "How lovely to see you this enchanting evening! Your Highness, if you would be so kind, my husband Lord Hojo, my three lovely daughters and I would be much honored if you came to our soiree for the upcoming Season—"

"My apologies. Excuse me." He muttered with a harsh bite as he brushed past the woman, his step never faltering.

God, save him from hopeful mothers-in-law.

_Social __climbers._ He added with a silent scoff. They were always doing that, weren't they, trying to marry _him_, a prince, to their pampered, spoiled daughters, always, always trying to get a shot at royalty.

_When_ were they going to learn that it was never going to work?

Just then, one of those nosey journalists pushed his way to the forefront of the line, pen and papers at the ready, tongue sharpened. "Your Highness!" He called out when he saw Sasuke approach. "Is it true that you are looking for a woman? Who is she? What—"

Hearing the jabbering call, the prince tensed, his unfaltering step wavering minutely. _What __did __he __say?__—_before his eyes narrowed in murderous warning.

"—is your rela…tion…" The meddlesome journalist continued on but then hesitated with a shudder, chastened, when he saw the sharp, deadly glance their beloved royal sent his way. He shrank away, his heart in his throat. Clearly, the topic was not to be pursued if he still wanted a job.

"How?" was his growling inquiry to his snow-haired boyhood friend without even looking at him, knowing full well that Sui was right behind him.

A cocky young lord and the youngest son of the Earl of Mist, Suigetsu Houzuki shrugged apathetically, unsurprised. He was one of the few people Sasuke shared his childhood with…and despite the lad's sadistic and coarse tendencies, he was quite the charmer. "You know how the press is. They've got rats and snitches everywhere."

_Damn__it._ Sasuke cursed inwardly, a scowl shadowing his brow. This revelation was not improving his mood one bit.

Damn gossipmongers! How did the press get a hold of that information?

Sasuke knew the gossip columns liked to talk about him. He also knew full well that his life of scandal was of his own doing, never making it a secret to the public. And he wanted it that way.

He wanted everyone to think that he was a hedonist with no regard for tomorrow…and perhaps maybe he was, in his own way…but this. _This _matter with his lovely pink-haired, green-eyed lady was something he preferred to keep private. Something all of his own.

He had wanted his search for the little spring fairy to be a secret if he could help it. He didn't want to cause a stir concerning this matter, not this time. This matter drew much too close to his deepest secret. A secret he preferred to keep in the dark. For all eternity.

With a low growl, he sent the man beside him a brief yet cutting glance. "Make sure he keeps quiet."

"Aye, aye, Princey-poo." Sui mock-saluted with a sardonic smirk before departing their magnificent flock in search of that mangy rat they call reporter, billfold already in hand.

An inaudible sigh huffed up from Rakehell's left. "Not that it matters or anything but I really don't see why you're so intent on finding this woman. There're already a handful of them waiting to flock over you where we're heading."

"Hn."

"Troublesome." Shika sighed once again, eyes squinting tiredly at the winding path. Lazy and indifferent to everything that was anything at all, Shikamaru Nara, son of the Minister of Defense Sir Shikaku Nara and the most apathetic boyhood friend the raven haired royal prince ever had, was a genius in his own right…just as soon as he stopped staring at the clouds he loved so much (Yes, even more than women) long enough to actually do something productive.

His friends wouldn't understand anyway, even if he told them about her…something he wasn't planning on doing anytime soon, by the way, considering the fact that it would lead so many questions like why, where…and how. And questions were one of the many things he disliked, so accustomed was he to being obeyed. Not questioned.

Besides, his nameless beauty was no one's business but his and his alone. He preferred to keep it that way too.

He was determined to find her. The strange chit had come into his life so unexpectedly, appeared in the most inconvenient of times…but she had also disappeared just as abruptly.

He doubted she knew that though, that he was on a woman-hunt for her. She hardly even recognized him that night. There was no way she would know that the woman he was searching for was _her_ particularly, even when the gossip mills went on overdrive.

That was his only comfort.

Sasuke supposed he should be suspicious. Their unusual encounter could hardly be called a coincidence, now could it?

He sure wasn't about to call their _fated_ encounter Fate.

Fate was Life's bitch. Cruel and sadistic.

If Life had been nice, he wouldn't be a prince. If Fate had been less bitchy, the least it could do was give him some privacy.

His scowl darkened at the thought, a storm cloud fairly hovering over his dark head, once again brooding as he walked sightlessly to the room he had been repeatedly going to for far too long.

Privacy. Freedom.

Huh. Such foreign words. Such unattainable things…

Funny how he had everything else in the world but those that really matter.

Vaguely, he wondered how _she_ would've handled the situation were they to change places.

"_I __need __your __name.__"_ Briefly, he closed his eyes, hearing the echoing determination in her words.

How she would've planned her way out of it.

"_I __don__'__t __want __to __marry __this__…__significant __other __I__'__m __supposed __to __marry.__"_ The resounding defiance of her fate in her voice.

Just like she planned a way out of her own wedding…however reckless.

In his mind's eye, there was a flash of petal pink hair and sparkling sea foam orbs…

_Where __are __you?_ He thought almost longingly.

…And tinkling laughter.

A rational part, the cautious part of him was screaming at him, warning bells all ringing at a deathly deafening tone, warning him how foolish it was to long for someone he barely knew. Much less someone he met in the direst of situations…especially in the light of the fact that he did not yet know the true faces of his enemies. She could be one of them for all he knew!

He should be suspicious of her than anything else.

But somehow, she intrigued him. Somehow…he could feel a common solidarity between them.

If he remembered correctly, she was to be betrothed to what Sasuke could only presume to be the most unsightly of men considering that rather desperate move she had pulled—she was willing to sleep with a _convict_ for God's sake!—and he…well, he was just as much of a prisoner as she was.

A prince whose life was in the palm of his father's hand, the Old Sire's to control.

Both of them were imprisoned in their own fate.

Only difference between them was that…he, Prince Sasuke Uchiha, was resigned to his fate of earthly and eternal damnation…and the little spitfire of a lady was as defiant as a hellcat.

But…it had been a week now.

_Where __are __you?_ came the same thought that ran through his mind for at least a hundredth time as he sightlessly stepped into the backstage region of the theatre, burrowed deep in his pensive thoughts.

It had been a week since he'd last seen her. A week since he'd started looking for her.

He'd been searching all over the capital, knowing that the high world would remove to Leaf at this time of the year in preparation of the upcoming Season. He'd had every pre-spring soiree and balls staked out; had every gathering there was, checked.

But, no. The elusive spitfire of a fairy was nowhere to be found.

And he didn't even know her name…

"Look! He's here!" the shrill sounds of delighted feminine screams pierced out from the drafty, candlelit dressing room he was always so prudent to visit derailed his train of thought.

Sasuke blinked, onyx pools clearing, realizing, for the first time, where he was. With a slow swagger, his chin high, he stepped into the actresses' dressing room, a sexy roguish smirk gracing the lips every woman in the room was dying to taste.

"_Sasukaaaaaaay!__" _They raced toward him from every corner…but before they could even lay a hand on the royal rogue, one particular voice of strident soprano reverberated through the room and gave everyone pause.

"Sasuke, _DAH-LING_!"

And before Rakehell knew it, he was engulfed in creamy arms and his vision swarmed in by perfumed locks of fiery red.

Sasuke looked down at the diva with a sexy half-smile as he pulled back, looking down at the perfect body wrapped around a clinging silvery gown, her luscious curves sloping, melting into his. "Karin."

She gave him a dazzling smile befitting the famed actress that she was. Throwing an aggravated huff at her sister thespians desperately crowding the stunning specimen of male meat, wanting a tiny little bite at the delicious prince, over her shoulder, the redheaded demirep turned to her protector was a sultry smile, her curled lashes lowered. She slipped the blue feather boa off her creamy shoulders, catching Sasuke around the neck with it.

"Oh, darling, how avant-garde!" She fluffed the boa on him.

"Ohhh! It looks pretty on him!" One of the actresses exclaimed, stepping closer like she couldn't resist before reaching out and fixing the feathered ornament on him.

"Everything does," another sighed dreamily from close behind.

Sasuke stared dully at the girl, wondering if he'd been that easily impressed when he was young…if he'd ever been young at all. Which was ironic since he was only at the ripe age of twenty-five.

He felt so old…

"Look at this Prince Sasu-kins!" another from the crowd of female performers stepped up.

Soulless onyx orbs landed on the busty brunette moving closer. She pushed herself to the fore, in front of him, before she daringly lowered her already too-low neckline, revealing two huge mounds of creamy breasts. Sasuke's perfect eyebrows lifted, admiring the boldly tattooed letter _S_ on her left breast and the _U_ on the right. Idly, he traced the inscribed letters on the curve of each tender flesh with his fingertip. "Hm, very nice. What was your name again, pet?"

"Ugh! Alright, you little tramps! Get away now, or I will speak to the house manager and all of you will be out of a job before sunup!" Karin snapped, her eyes a blaze with envy as she stepped between her fellow actresses and her beloved lover, shooing them off with a murderous glare and sharp-tongued threats.

Prince Sasuke was hers! No one else had dibs on the delectable man but her. And she was going to pound it into everyone's head until they understood, _accepted_ it as fact.

The royal rake smirked, amused at his mistress' irritation, watching as the girls drifted away one by one, bouncing curls drooping in disappointment, before his friends, with billfolds at the ready, intercepted them, flirting with a flair he knew they were wont to do…all except one.

At the corner of his eye, he saw Shikamaru, who was leaning at the wall by the door, yawn in disinterest, and inwardly sighed. That was Shika. Always on a rut. The clouds were far more interesting to the man than the inviting scent of a woman's flesh.

"And as for you, monsieur devil." said his mistress with a haughty air as she turned to him with a jealously disapproving look, though she didn't dare reproach him. Sasuke glanced down at her with an unrepentant half-smile. She held his gaze with a sultry stare and whispered, "You. You are coming with me. I saw you sleeping through my routine, and now I'm afraid I must punish you for it." Her voice lowered a seductive octave at the last words.

"I was awake…" he murmured bluntly, "but you can still punish me if you really want to."

Karin laughed a laugh of pure seduction, leading him to the door with her blue feather boa. Her hungry searching gaze told him of the pleasures that was sure to come…though he was trying hard not to notice the sheer worship shining through her auburn orbs.

And then…

Unexpectedly, a flash of pink hair and luminous green eyes came unbidden in his mind, and a sensual picture was left imprinted; a picture of those eyes, eyes of sparkling emerald jewels, glazing over, and those unusual locks spilling wildly over hot silk and her lovely, defiant mouth crying out with unbridled passion.

_Hn__…_His eyes darkened. And a slow smirk crept its way to his delectable lips.

Now that he thought about it, he and Karin had been lovers for three months now…a record for the infamous Sasuke the Royal Rakehell. And he _had_ been getting bored with the fiery demimonde…he just wasn't quite so sure how he was going to tell her that. He was kind of hoping that she would figure it out on her own.

But then again, Karin was a smart girl. Maybe she already found out.

She just…refused to acknowledge it.

Whoever said denial was the first step to acceptance was dead wrong. Because the Lord knew she wasn't about to give up her position so willingly. She was, after all, having too much fun with her good fortune.

And Sasuke knew that too. But, hm, yes. Too bad.

He really _could_ use a new mistress.

_Particularly __one __with __pink __hair._ He thought with a satisfied smirk that Karin must have mistaken for undying devotion, Sasuke noticed, because she fairly flared with conceit, eyes shining with feminine pride, obviously proud to have the unattainable prince wrapped around her little finger.

Letting his mistress have her moment, however a misconception on her part that may be, the raven haired prince looked away, nodding to his gang. "See you at the club around three." He stated before taking his leave.

"See you there, Princey." Sui drawled with a smirk, each arm slung around a woman's creamy shoulders.

"_Ciao_." Shika gave him a droopy half-nod, righting himself from where he was leaning and was out the back door before anyone else could say anything.

But then, an urgently shrill voice sounded through the halls, echoing like alarm bells announcing the attack of a cavalry, as a little man came tearing through the building like he was being chased by a pack of hungry wolves.

"Your Highness! Your Highness!"

Halfway through the exit, Sasuke turned around just in time to see a liveried courier bustle into the dressing room, sweating buckets, eyes wild and frantic.

And almost instantly, the royal prince tensed, every muscle in his body winding into tight knots as every fiber of his being fought to keep his hostility in check.

A messenger.

He knew what that meant.

Sasuke narrowed his eyes. Oh, he knew.

_A message from the king._

**A/n:** This chapter was greatly based on Gaelen Foley's magnificent book, _Prince__Charming_. Thanks for reading, guys! Until next time! _Ciao_!


	6. The Imminent

**Hooded Lies**

_The Imminent_

Sakura didn't know why, but there was something in the mischievous twinkle in Father Jiraya's eyes that she didn't quite trust. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it was enough to make her feel uneasy. Unsettled. Of course, her edgy reaction could just be the result of the good father's innately unpredictable and perversely playful nature…and the fact that she'd just _bared_ witness to the most sensually risqué acts she didn't know were even within human capabilities, in a _rectory_—a place where it was supposed to be renowned for its sanctity and venerability—no less!

And, and weren't priests supposed to be chaste? Did the bishop even _know_ that one of his clergymen had an outrageously indulgent appreciation for the human flesh?

Because that would just be so wrong…in so many levels.

_Ah, __well_. Sakura shook her head at her racing thoughts, already knowing she couldn't hold it over the old preacher. The father had been nothing but kind, if a little harmlessly unconventional, to her and her people, and she supposed everyone at Meadow was allowed their own private eccentricities. To each his own, Grandfather always said.

Who was she to judge anyway? She was friends with a blacksmith who had acted more dog than man, a neophyte scholar with an alarming fascination for insects, and a young man whose love for anything and everything that was even remotely edible far outweighed his dear old mama's wish for him to wed.

And she…well, she…

Sakura looked down at the flimsy piece of parchment in her hands, her eyes homing in on the elegantly masculine scrawls Father Jiraya had duplicated perfectly, sitting next to her decidedly femininely curving ones. An awed sense of wonder washed over her.

She'd done it. She'd married herself to Jiro Kiyoshi. Married herself to a dead man.

To a _dead_ man.

She'd just _married_ herself _to __a __dead __man_.

She inwardly sighed at the thought.

If that didn't take the whole crazy cake, she didn't know what did.

Still. The thought of what she'd done should have sickened her, should have had her shying away from it, should have sent her into a panicked hysteria. This new type of rule breaking was morbid and it somehow sounded so wrong—never mind the fact that the deceased Kiyoshi had already agreed to it…to some extent and that technically their deal had somehow been strangely met—because she just _did__not_ do necromancy, because he was _dead_, because she may have possibly defiled the departed man. But…she couldn't help but feel oddly exhilarated, albeit a little guilty. That probably made her sick, insane even, but she knew what she'd done was a necessary step to take.

In this world, practicality ruled. In this world, this reality, there was no room for her girlish fantasies. No room to consider what was socially acceptable, what was morally appropriate. In the real world, you did what you had to do to live, survive, in it. You played the game how it was supposed to be played in the playing field.

And Sakura liked to think she knew how to play—if the other deplorable dealings she, more often than not, engaged in were proof enough—and she knew she played it well. That was why she was going to win.

_Finally_.

She was married.

Her stomach was fluttered in eager anticipation.

She was a widow.

A bubble of excitement rushed through her veins, her accomplishment so heavy on her tongue, she could taste it.

And she was _free_.

_Free_. She let her eyes fall shut, allowing herself a moment to savor the almost tangible thought.

At long last, she and her little Meadow were going to be free. Free from further desecration, from Inari's indiscrete and deplorable ways, from the threat of his corrupted hands acquiring her lands. Most of all, she and her family were finally free to live in the peace they longed for. Free to build a better future.

All they had to do now was make sure everything they'd painstakingly planned for months on end worked out perfectly. Make sure Inari swallowed the ruse with little trouble, though, truth be told, Sakura wouldn't mind him choking on it a bit, just as long as he played right into their hands like the good little stick puppet he was.

_Finally _this little game was coming to an end, one where they either had everything to gain or everything to lose, and she'd be damned if she lost.

Losing was not an option. Not anymore.

She'd lost enough.

"Sakura?"

At the sound of her name being spoken, said girl slowly opened her eyes, only to settle upon Kiba's ruggedly handsome face. He was standing a step down in front of her, Chouji and Shino already aboard their horse-drawn wagon, all ready, their expressions expectant. Hopeful.

She heaved a bracing breath. _This __is __it._

"Are you ready to go?" Her best friend asked, the makings of an impish grin lifting the corners of his lips.

"Yes," she nodded with an answering smile of her own. She turned to the old preacher standing beside her at the rectory's front porch, before gratefully sweeping down into the most graceful curtsy she could in her worn working dress and threadbare wrap. "Good night, Father."

There was warmth in the priest's eyes as he looked at the proud lady of their village. In the barren, drought-ridden lands of Meadow, this noblewoman ruled. And somehow, Father Jiraya had no doubt that, were she given the chance, she'd also have the world at her feet.

"May God be with you, child," he murmured, for once sounding like the holy minister he really was.

Sea foam orbs looked at him with a flashing determination the old father could only marvel at. "Thank you."

_God __knows __I__'__m __going __to __need __Him_.

-XxxxX-

"His Majesty summons you, Your Highness."

Sasuke turned to stare down at the royal messenger bowed respectfully before him with a look of a cool sort of detachment he did not entirely feel, dark eyes narrowing minutely, suspiciously, at the implication of those delivered words, his patrician features remaining an expressionless mask of perfect indifference, betraying nothing of the snapping anger coursing through him.

Father was summoning him? Why?

Fugaku had never called on him this late at night before—at least not since the Treaties of Peace had been signed by Fire's neighboring nations seven years ago. And even then Sasuke's involvement in that time's military conferences had been few and far between. After all, it was only after Itachi's death that he was commissioned, _obliged_, to witness any and every activity that went about within the royal courts, including those that transpired during the royal assemblies with the kingdom's council.

Assemblies that, he knew for a fact, usually occurred in the late afternoons.

So…why would the old tyrant call for him now?

_Unless_…

Unless his father meant to give him another one of his tediously acerbic tongue-lashing again. One that undoubtedly, once again, comprised of how ill-equipped he was to rule a kingdom as great as theirs, of how the crippling responsibility of overseeing an entire realm was going to trample him, of how the haughty courtiers were going to eat him alive with a ruthlessness the likes of which he'd never seen before, of how his naivety and his idealistic fantasies were going to be his complete and utter downfall.

…And so on and so forth.

Really. He'd heard that typical, torturously lengthy tirade a thousand times before; it was nothing new. And, truthfully, he wasn't in a very masochistic mood to hear any of it tonight.

_Or __any __other __night, __for __that __matter,_ Sasuke thought with an inwardly irritated sigh. And so, with an air of deceptive nonchalance, the prince finally clipped out his answer to the royal summons in cavalier silver tones. "Hn, tell my father I'll be there tomorrow afternoon,"

His Excellency may treat him like his personal lapdog, and perhaps, Sasuke begrudgingly conceded, to some extent he was, but that did not mean he was just going to heel ever time the older monarch told him to.

At least not immediately.

After all, Fugaku Uchiha wasn't the only one with the blood of stubborn royalty running through his veins.

Besides, it was probably best he steered clear of any confrontation with his father for the time being anyway. In the kind of temperament he was currently in and given how things usually ended between the two of them, he was sure to take whatever Fugaku wanted from him to explosive proportions. Of that he had no doubt.

"B-Beg pardon, Your Highness," the sent man suddenly stammered, hastily dropping into another deep, this time apologetic bow. "But I'm afraid that will not be possible, sir. His M-Majesty currently awaits your arrival at the royal carriage as we speak…Y-your Highness."

"…" _What?_

Sasuke stilled at the, admittedly, startling news, his powerful frame coiling tight with tension. He turned to look back at the nervous messenger slowly, his expression dark, eyes dangerously narrowed and flashing with leashed fury.

So. Fugaku had actually seen it fit to come down from his impregnable fortress to personally see to it that his son got the proper browbeating.

How…uncharacteristic of him.

"…I see."

A deafening silence descended upon the dressing chambers in the wake of those curt, polished words. Tension seemed to coat the very air around them like a thick suffocating blanket as every occupant—the royal rake's lordly friends, his charming mistress and his delightful devotees—of the room witnessed the exchange anxiously, as if expecting him to explode at any given second—a minor detail that was not lost on the brooding prince.

And perhaps, they were right to be so cautious, for just beneath the young sovereign's cool façade lay a simmering rage so potent, it fairly sizzled like the fires of Hell itself.

Like the fires of Hell that eternally consumed his very soul.

_God __help __him __if __he __lost __his __temper __now_, he thought with barely restrained rage, his jaw clenching against the sudden urge to lash out, because while there was some truth to the much celebrated rumors that he was the debauched one in their revered family, unlike his hotheaded sire, he'd always had the innate ability to remain calm, unruffled and undaunted, no matter the circumstances; had always possessed the cool grace of the haughty royal he'd always been.

Still. The tempting urge to simply walk away was strong, tantalizing even, and, for a long, wishful moment, he almost wished he really could. Really wished he could walk away from it all—his birthright, his responsibilities, from the expectations. His prison.

From the prince in him.

But there was no use in deluding himself, he knew that. Fugaku coming to actually _fetch_ him was reminder enough.

He would never be free. He _was_ a prince, and he _was_ an Uchiha. And princes born of the Uchiha name would never do something so boorish, so pleb, so fucking plucky an act as to just rudely walk away.

If etiquette demanded he bow out graciously and leave his dignity to the dust and return to his silver strings, he would, because he was royalty. If his noble upbringing obligated him to force his very being back into his gilded cage, he would, because he was an Uchiha. If his very name required him to live his life in the pampered luxury of the damned, he would, because he was no one but Sasuke Uchiha.

He had no choice.

He was a puppet, and puppets weren't left with a lot of choices—

"Let's not keep my father waiting, then," he finally assented with a coolly urbane tilt of his lips, his velvet voice smoothing over the room like flourishing ice.

—if at all.

The courier slumped into a bobbing bow, going practically boneless in his intense relief. Even the entire room seemed to have breathed a collective sigh, appeased.

"Very good, sir." The harbinger of news said, backing up a step to the side, and swept a hand to the door from whence he came. "If you please, Your Highness?"

Sasuke only responded with a minute nod, before turning to his concerned mistress, lifting her dainty hand to his lips and kissing it in rigid courtesy.

"I have to go," he murmured in lieu of an apology, not bothering to look even remotely repentant. His racing thoughts had far better things to worry about than agonize about missing a quick tumble with the demirep.

"I understand, love," Karin soothed, caressing his arm with a sultry smile and looking meaningfully into his eyes. "You know where I'll be when you have need of me."

"Hn,"

And with a brisk nod and a knowing smirk, he was out the exit door, his thoughts in a maelstrom of fury.

-XxxxX-

The Fire Country was a grandiose and powerful nation, prosperous and influential. It was a land of color and adventure, of beauty and passion. A flourishing kingdom that lived up to the volatility and grace of its name. But like every great empire, it was also subject to human nature and society. Natures that, despite the best efforts of great men, no one had control over. No one had a clear view of.

Indeed, amidst the brilliant glow of Fire's resplendent glory, there were still those cast in the shadows, often overlooked. Living, lurking.

Thriving.

"The young prince is proving to be a rather tenacious runt, isn't he?" rasped the man that stood before the grand Palladian windows of his study in dark amusement, his lips twisting into a wry smile that belied the true fury that raged within as he stared out into glacial landscape that, much like how the window's clouded glass mirrored his cruel countenance, reflected his cold soul. "Perhaps what they say about weeds has some truth in it after all."

"Perhaps." His companion chuckled from where he sat in a large wing-backed chair. "We are weeds ourselves, are we not?"

"Ah, but there you are wrong, my friend," answered the first man with a dark chuckle of his own.

No, they were not weeds.

"Oh?"

He turned from the windows to look at his accomplice, the moon's silver light casting his features in sharp, eerie angles, and his world into the realm of which he ruled—the shadows. "We are not the weeds that mar the garden's beauty, but merely the flames that inevitably rids the world of its contamination as nature dictates."

The man at the chair tilted his head in a mild question whilst raising his ornate brandy decanter to his lips. "The Uchihas are but weeds then?"

"Yes. And soon we will be rid of them," he answered with a cruel smirk, dark eyes glinting with frosty malice. "As nature will dictate, of course."

"Of course."

-XxxxX-

With the opera having just let out, the street outside the theatre was crowded with people and carriages alike. Members of the glittering _Ton_ loitered about, milling around the area in lush fur coats and crisp thin shawls made more for fashion than for comfort, their heated tongues set awagging, he knew, on the latest bit of gossip, oblivious as they were to the biting cold. Expensive coaches thronged the road while heavily garbed and uniformed grooms dashed hastily to open lavish and warmed carriages for their lords and ladies.

And there, awaiting him in front of the wide stone steps of the grand Pavilion, lined amongst other gilded vehicles, was the royal carriage. It crouched there in the cold lane, in all its gilded entirety, sleek panels and unsubtle designs of regality sticking out like a glorified sore thumb, the Uchiha crest plastered intricately on the lacquered door further damning him to his reality. The reality that, other than the coach's purpose to transport royalty from point A to point B, it served as a clear reminder to everyone—to _him_—that, yes, in this gaudy contraption sat men whose enslavement were, and always will be, to their birthright.

Pity there weren't any chains to go with the garish thing. It would have been most appropriate.

With an inward sneer, Sasuke walked to the awaiting stagecoach, his fury tightly leashed now that the invisible marble of indifference and apathy—a mask so a part of him that the detachment, the coolness, he exuded seeped into his very soul—settled deceptively upon the perfect planes of his aristocratic feature like a fine leather glove, his gait slow and confident in the face of his father's impending criticisms.

After all, the man was the infallible king, and he the lap dog prince.

"Your Highness," bowed a groom as the gleaming door to the coach swung open to admit him entrance, the entry to the place where a great man awaited.

And await he did, for in the opulent interior of the polished cage, with the dim lights from the lanterns attached to the smooth mahogany panels above curtained windows casting a low warm golden glow over the plush cushion seats, sat none other than the regal figure of Fire's immortal king himself—

"Father," the prodigal prince greeted, his tone clipped, formal and cool.

—His Majesty, King Fugaku Uchiha.

-XxxxX-

From the shadows they stirred, their eyes wild and hungry, glittering with the fevered anticipation of a greedy heart. They lumbered, lurked, searched and spotted prey, slinking in the heavy patches of darkness in which they thrived. Eagerly, they skulked, waiting for their unsuspecting quarry, the doddering victim on whose head their bounty lay—and, oh! What a prize it was.

A hefty prize.

A grand prize.

A fair reward for such a heinous deed.

_Tonight_.

Tonight, it was to be done.

_Tonight—_

Tonight, the prince of Fire was going to meet his end.

—was his inglorious demise.

-XxxxX-

The carriage slid into brisk motion soon after its gilded door swung shut, clattering down the ice-smoothened lane in a flurry of rattling reins, drumming hooves and aggravated whinnies. It winded down the city's cobbled path, around the corner and another and another, into the night. And as the elements performed the part Nature had written, the imperial coach ran oblivious, unaffected by winter's cold display.

And yet, even as the transport of royalty ensured its occupants' comfort, there inside the toasty cove, raged another type of frost; one that raged with in a dark-haired prince, and was reflected in the eyes of his equally dark-eyed sire, in the very eyes that never hid the mockery, the disappointment, of a man whose expectations far exceeded the impossible. Of a man perpetually unsatisfied.

And unsatisfied he always was, if the king's curt greeting and disapproving frown were any indication of his well held sentiments. Not that Sasuke was surprised. It was not after all the first time he had wondered why he even bothered to please the older royal. He already knew his very _identity_ was disappointment enough to the man.

_Ah, __well,_ he thought with an inward shake of his head, finding the sardonic humor in his self-deprecating thoughts. Best he give his iron-handed sire a good performance, then. He wouldn't want to disappoint him any further.

And so, with an insolent cock of his dark eyebrow and a lazy smirk plastered on his thin lips, Sasuke lounged back on the cushioned seats, his elegant fur coat fanning about his nonchalant form only emphasizing his projected indolence, as he played perfectly the role of a debauched prince. "It's late."

"Hm, it is," the monarch intoned smoothly. "Your mother is already in her chambers, asleep." He paused for a beat, the undercurrent of his displeasure lacing his cultured words. "I would be to, had you been there at the meeting with the council earlier this afternoon."

"I didn't—"

"You would have had you been present at your townhouse that morning. Or the morning before that." There was steel in Fugaku's voice now, anger in his tone.

Ah, there it was. The impending derision. Sasuke fought a sardonic smirk to grace his lips. As expected, the man never failed to make his son see his deplorable shortcomings.

Not that he could blame his sire for his fury on this one.

His father's temper was rising with each word he uttered, but there was nothing he could say to placate his sire. Mostly because it was true; he _hadn__'__t _been at his townhouse all week, and while he had various reasons for his, otherwise, unavailability—with his recent plans setting into motion and his almost desperate search for an elusive spring fairy he was beginning to think never existed—to the world at large, he was just on some high class spree of self-indulgence, ceaselessly attending one soiree after another, and getting into reckless races like the wastrel they thought he was, forever indulging in the wild excesses they were so quick to disparaged him for, yet equally as prompt to venerate him for even daring such exploits. Unfortunately, his father belonged to _that_ larger part of the world; the part that found entertainment in his steady decline to decadence, except he was almost always never amused.

"Father, I—"

"None of your excuses," the king cut in imperiously, dark eyes now narrowed to dangerous slits as he surveyed his wayward scion. "You are the prince of this country, Sasuke, not its jester. You have responsibilities that far exceed that of a fool's entertainment." He paused, seething as his eyes flashing in reproof. "It will do you well to remember that."

Sasuke's jaw clenched. "Yes, Father."

At those words of assent, King Fugaku nodded once, satisfaction at the boy's show of humility clear, reclining as he did into his plush seat, his arms coming up to fold over his broad chest. Fixing his serious gaze on the young man in front of him, he said, "See that you do, boy, because this time, you really will have the fate of our kingdom in your hands."

…_What?_

The man's words gave Sasuke pause, unsure now as to where this conversation was going.

Something was wrong.

He looked into the dark eyes of the formidable man in front of him, his brows furrowed minutely. He knew his father well, and if there was one thing he knew, it was that His Majesty was not a reckless man. Hot-tempered and volcanic, yes, but never reckless. The king was the sort of man who thought of every move he made, planned every step to take.

Just what was he aiming for now?

Cautiously, quietly, he hedged, "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying I'm leaving you in-charge."

Onyx orbs widened, his perfected act of nonchalance melting with every slow shift his body made to move into a proper sitting position, half afraid that any sudden movement would dispel this unreal moment, and his liege would snatch away the one thing he ever wanted in life—the chance to take control, to seize his own destiny. "Sir?"

"Your mother and I, along with the Duke and Duchess of Hokage, are going on a holiday, Sasuke. We will be attending a wedding at Lightning, and from there we will be taking a grand tour to the other surrounding countries. While I'm gone…" Fugaku gave an infinitesimal pause.

A short break that seemed to last a lifetime.

He dared not move, dared not breathe.

"…I'm making you prince regent."

Sasuke stared at the reigning king of Fire for a long breathless moment, dumbfounded and unable to say a thing. For once, his unruffled demeanor failed him, his indifference nowhere to be seen.

His father had not parted with a single ounce of his immense power in over thirty years, had not taken a single _holiday_ in even more than that, but now…now he was giving him a chance. A chance to finally prove himself. A chance to show this man—the whole damn world—that he could be just as good as Itachi, if not better. A chance to break free from his silver strings. A chance to finally show his people that he wasn't just an overgrown pampered peacock. A chance to show himself that he was worth it.

That he was good enough.

The possibilities were endless, right at his fingertips.

So close…

But…

"Why?"

An elegant eyebrow rose at the curt question, the challenge glinting in his piercing dark pools reflecting more than just the wisdom and experience that molded him, but, perhaps, a trifle hint of sly amusement too. "Why?"

"Hn," Sasuke grunted, moving to put his elbows onto his splayed knees. "What's the catch?"

For one tense moment, silence descended upon the small confines of the carriage. It became palpable, a living thing, undisturbed by the noisy rattling of the outside world. For one brief moment, it was all that reigned as both occupants' gazes locked and held, one challenging, the other determined.

Until, finally—

"Very well," Fugaku acquiesced as he slowly unfolded from his seat, reaching beside him to uncover what lay beneath a small and thin purple blanket that had been beside him this entire time. Without much flair, and yet, still exuded the elegant grace expected of royalty, he drew the rectangular quilt away, revealing a silver tray on which an assortment of three small portraits lay. Beside the array was a small stack of what looked to be legal documents.

At his son's questioning look, a mere quirk of a fine eyebrow and a quick glance his way, the King of Fire proceeded to explain the terms of his game. "You will be prince regent," he began serenely, a ghost of a roguish smirk that had once made the ladies of his time swoon in a fit of delighted vapors gracing his unforgiving lips, "provided you meet the only condition I have."

Sasuke's gaze stayed on his face.

"Matrimony."

-XxxxX-

There were very few things in this world that could faze the Earl of Shadow. Indeed, his innate ability to be as lackadaisical as a sleepy cat was a talent in and of itself, once one got past the annoyance of such constant display of noble indolence. Shikamaru Nara was rarely, if at all, ruffled, and almost never rushed.

Not even when a peculiar missive bearing a message of grave import was sent to him in a most mysterious manner.

The letter itself was short, impersonal and clipped, the elegant scrawls on starch white paper belying an urgency that needed to be seen in utmost immediacy.

A sense of immediacy that he did not have.

Unfurling from the stained brick wall on which he'd been leaning against, he righted himself into a casual slouch with a deep weary sigh, as if moving from his spot took too great an effort, the pressing parchment held in one well manicured hand and a lit cigar in the other. He looked down at the curt, cryptic note.

_Troublesome,_ he thought, taking one last drag of his expensive cheroot before slipping the thin piece of paper into his long coat and striding out of the murky alley with nothing but the rats, the stench of garbage, and disgustingly enough, human piss to witness his leisurely progress out of the muted darkness.

Troublesome, indeed.

-XxxxX-

He wanted him to _what_?

For a long moment, all he could do was stare. Stare at the older monarch with blank, vacant pools, his fine features arranged into an expression as still as granite, even as unadulterated horror gripped his insides in an iron hold so strong it hindered his ability to breathe. Stare, stare unblinkingly into the hard eyes of the one sovereign in the world who not only ruled an entire nation, but the one life he knew would always be beyond _his_ own control.

His.

Eternally.

Perpetually.

_Prisoner_.

Slowly, mechanically, onyx eyes still as blank as the winter night, Sasuke shifted his gaze to the tray lying innocuously beside the keeper of his highborn penitentiary. Three portraits of unfamiliar faces lay there. Three unfamiliar faces of pretty women who neither knew, nor cared for him. Three unfamiliar faces of pretty, blue-blooded women whose breeding, status and bearing had been debated upon, voted on and chosen for him—three ideal candidates to play the perfect role of marionette to his stringed part.

_Puppet_.

Three likely shackles he could trade his current prison for.

How sly. How clever.

So very _Fugaku_.

"Well, go on," urged the king, gesturing at the selection of faces on a silver tray like they were mere trinkets. Simple, trivial baubles that had nothing to do at all with the future of his remaining son. "Choose."

Sasuke's gaze returned to his formidable sire, hollow eyes as cold as winter's frost. "Right now?" he asked coolly, unfazed.

"Why not? Now's a time as good as any. You're old enough to wed. The council and I have been waiting for you to produce heirs, as is part of your duty, is it not?"

Sasuke's mouth pressed into a hard line.

_Fool._

The king made a vague expansive gesture at the frosted window, indicating the world outside, a mere blur in their jostling pace. "Fire is ours to govern, Sasuke. Our responsibility. Our privilege. If you want the chance to rule it as prince regent, or even as king someday, you need only choose one of those young ladies. Proxy wedding papers have already been drawn up," he gestured at the legal parchments stacked neatly beside the miniature portraits "All it awaits is you signature, and Fire is yours to reign."

His to reign…

His.

His.

"Father, you are being unreasonable." Sasuke stated slowly, teeth clenched with suppressed rage, hands balling into tight fists.

Fugaku pinned him with a hard stare, dark eyes now burning with a determination that the prince knew he will be hard pressed to deter. "Oh, I think I'm being perfectly reasonable, boy. If I am to entrust an entire nation to you, your willingness to take up the accountabilities of marriage is the only way I can be rest assured that you _are_ capable of bearing your responsibilities."

"Father—"

"Should you choose to decline this window of opportunity, I will not force you. However, be warned that this is the only chance you will get. You may continue to play and chase the skirts of actresses you seem to favor for as long as you like. I will leave the kingdom to someone else, and I will be naming a new heir to the throne."

_His._

Glaring onyx orbs morphed into disbelief at those untimely words, his ears ringing at the ultimatum it clearly held. The dawning horror in his gut hardening into a sort of dread that froze the very blood in his veins.

But—

His father couldn't do this!

…could he?

He knew the answer.

_Yes._

Yes, he could.

But what about him? What could _he_ do?

What could he _do_?

He stared unseeingly at the carpeted floor. He knew the answer to that too—_Nothing_.

—at what price?

He could do naught but submit. Submit to his father's whims. Submit, _perpetually_, _eternally_, to the immortalized man who held steeled shackles to his soul.

After all, he was, and forever will be, the glorified prisoner of his birth.

And then…

A short, mirthless chuckle escaped his lips, shattering the very palpable stillness that had begun to envelope the mobile transport, the rage building inside him nearly blinding him in its intensity. He couldn't help it. It was just so like his father to pull a stunt like this, dangle the one bait he knew he wouldn't be able to refuse, only to replace the suffocating confines of his existence with another more unbreakable chain.

He would _never_ be good enough.

"I don't have a choice, do I?" Looking up with the unflappable calmness he was born with, the smirk plastered on his handsome features was nothing if not scornful.

His liege's only response was a cool incline of his aristocratic head.

"Hn." Reaching over the inside of the coach's polished walls, he rapped on it, once, twice; the steady staccato earning an instantaneous response.

The stagecoach slowed.

Fugaku's brows drew together ominously. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm leaving," was his only response.

The royal carriage came to full stop, clattering to a halt in a cacophony of whinnies and jangling wheels.

"What?"

Sasuke faced his father one last time, unfathomable pools so like the stormy ones they looked into. The very same ones that will never see him for who he was. _I__'__m__done._

"Good night, Father."

* * *

**A/n:** Hey, guys! Sorry for the long wait. For the long, long, _long_ wait. I'm out of my two-year hibernation and now, I'm pumped and ready to write me some stories! –cracks knuckles-

Thank you guys for the reviews and the PMs you sent me. They motivated me and pushed me to write, no matter how slow the pace. I also want to give a huge thank you to _cutecrazyice_for betaing this chapter for me and _Unicorn__Paige_ for helping me out whenever I whine about getting stuck! You guys are the best, seriously!

Now, the next chapter will be out sometime next week, or the week after! Until then! _Ciao_!


	7. The Collision

**Hooded Lies**

_The Collision_

The night was still. Clear. Serene. So much so that the evening itself seemed to be holding its breath—as if it feared that by blowing so much as a whisper of chilled air across the frosty terrain would shatter its iced tranquillity. The full moon's silver glow cast an ethereal luminescence over the crystallized land, reflecting a peace that wasn't at all in accordance with the roiling mood of a lone figure trudging on the snow-covered pavement, crushing specks of frozen water beneath polished Hessian boots with measured steps. Measured steps that belied the rage boiling within. Steps that, despite the resolution made in every one, took him away from the things that he coveted most.

He couldn't believe it; he was finally doing it. _He was walking away_. Away from his birthright. From his future. From his family, his people. From everything he'd ever known and hoped to be. But, in his current state, he found that he was past caring. Fugaku no longer had a hold over him.

He was free.

_Free_, the breeze seemed to caress the very word.

For years, he'd done his best to measure up to the man's expectations, to fill Itachi's shoes to the best of his abilities, to assume the roles his older brother had left behind. He'd done all he could, given it all he had. But somehow, he was never good enough. He was _never_ enough.

_So be it, _he thought grimly. If the king wanted to disown him now, it hardly mattered anymore. He was _done_.

"Sasuke!" echoed a commanding bellow, an imperial order that Prince Sasuke doggedly ignored. He strode resolutely ahead, knowing that, should he heed any of his father's high-handed calls, he would never be free, would always remain the prisoner he so loathed to be. And so, he walked, continued on and away from it all—his future, his father, his brother—until finally—finally— the echoes that sought to keep him bound faded into the stillness of the winter's night.

Until all that was left was silence.

So still.

So heavy...

He paused in his determined gait and blew out a calming breath in condensed puffs, trying still to reclaim the calm he'd always inherently possessed even as his mind burned with angry loss and deprecating acceptance. And there, standing at a snow-laden path, the grey path slick with frosty precipitation, Sasuke took in his solemn surroundings, looking outside, but infinitely looking in—at a loss...

...without peace.

A cold gust of wind blew across the night, an icy caress on his darkly chiselled features; a soothing balm to his fuming senses. The breeze's soft howl drifted to his ears, sang a song of comfort he could not, and would never hear. His thoughts, loud and furious, still churned. His soul still damned.

No, there would never be any peace. Not for him. Not in silence. Not in darkness. Not in his heart.

A wry smirk curled his lips at the last thought, so humourlessly cold on a face carved out of marble. Of course there would be no peace in his heart. Nothing of the sort could ever reside there, for it was empty. Empty like a nutshell. Empty like his dreams. Empty like his life.

_Which means I've got nothing left to lose_.

Breathing in the clear air of winter, sharp and arctic in his lungs, Sasuke resumed his aimless stroll, burying gloved hands into his coat pockets, his volatile temper already turning dark. The frosty road was devoid of life, ghostly wisps of mist curling, creeping, low on the ground, parting like frail curtains as the prince pushed on. He paid no heed to the rows of colourful shops that flanked him, took no notice of the painted hangings and the wrought-iron balconies that overlooked the lonely cobbled street he walked. He could only look resolutely, unseeingly ahead, his wandering only illuminated by the frugally spaced iron lampposts. This was his life—a directionless walk, forever purposeless.

But—_no_. That wasn't true. Not at all. He did have a purpose, had but one goal that brought substantial meaning to his existence, a mission he was destined for. And, no, it was not to be king. Itachi was the one born to that role, the one chosen to fill that gilded shoe. And, him? He was born of a different sort entirely.

An avenger.

Another blast of wind blew past him, whipping raven locks about a visage set in stone. His fur coat whisked about his lithe form, and yet still, he continued on, oblivious to winter's chilly purr, his empty eyes at last finding purchase on the hulking structure perched on and welcomed by the lush hills on which his ancestors had ruled for hundreds of years, its magnificence silhouetted by the pale moonlight.

The palace, even at a distance, was a resplendent sight. It bespoke of Fire's splendour, her greatness and power. A flaming majesty more beautiful than the mystical isles of any legend ever told, hers was beauty unparalleled. And _she_, a glittering gem of burning ruby, was his grand heritage. For her, he'd endured his years of bejewelled imprisonment, took up the heavy torch of responsibility after Itachi's death, his years of docility under his father's imposing thumb. For her, he'd let his life pass him by.

_But..._

But, oh, what a fickle sort his mistress was. After his brother's untimely death, after being declared the new heir to the throne, he'd given it his all to be worthy of her, only to be cast aside, as he'd always been, and reminded of his only position—his vengeful duty. He was only her knight, unworthy to reign, but ever favoured to do battle in her quest for justified retribution against those who stole life's breath from her fated king.

Indeed, heir or not, his life was not yet as purposeless as it seemed.

Just then, a loud discordant harmony of clattering horse hooves and stirring wheels broke through the fragile peace of the night, effectively shattering the bated tranquillity and jolting the young prince from his darkly sullen musings. Looking over one broad shoulder, he found himself intrigued to see a familiar gleaming landau come lurching down the paved lane at an alarming pace, its well-oil wheels seeming to float over the icy road with the expected grace it was made for. It glided down the road. An elegant eyebrow rose and stayed upon his smooth visage as the dark green carriage slid to a screeching halt before him; the wild snorting of heaving bucks the only cacophony left to greet the gloomy hush.

Now this was curious.

The carriage door opened not a second later, and the angular face of a shutter-gazed Shikamaru Nara emerged from the dark recesses of the stylish coach, his lanky structure draped over the leather seating with the heavy air of unabated indolence.

Sasuke smirked up at him. "Going somewhere?"

"Unfortunately," answered the infinitely tired young man. Then he made a vague gesture for the royal prince to join him in his carriage, a mere flick of his hand indicating the cushioned seat opposite him. "And it appears you're going with me."

"Am I?"

His friend's answer came in a series of lazy motions: a languid drag at a lit cheroot clipped between long fingers, a one-shouldered shrug, and finally, an unhurried hurried drawl. "I was on my way to your townhouse to look for you."

"Oh?" The royal prince cocked his head at the lounging man—one he's known for years now—clearly weighing his options, his keen mind dissecting the strange situation. Something was wrong, suspicious. In all the years he had known the idle earl, Shikamaru was never one to actively seek out company. Not even for a tumble with a high-class whore or a shot of whiskey. No, something was amiss, and Sasuke had a feeling he was about to find out.

Eager to banish the thoughts of his tyrannical sire and his pompous ultimatum, he stepped into the shadows enveloping the Earl of Shadow's lavish landau. Once seated on the plush carriage couch opposite the other man, Sasuke took in the strange conditions of the luxurious gig, a graceful eyebrow once again rising as his keen mind took note of every minute detail—from the unlit lanterns embedded into the ride's interior walls, to the open windows and the drawn back curtains that let the pale streaks of moonlight to stream in, bathing the fashionable cavern in the shadowy paleness of its silver light, and the frigid winter wind to drift by in coolly stinging relief, to the unmistakable stench of tobacco mingling with the brittle chill—before turning his questioning gaze to his slothful friend.

Shikamaru merely sighed at the blatant look of inquiry, unsurprised by how quickly the royal born caught on. Nevertheless, he did not speak until their ride was once again in raucous motion. And when he did, he went straight to the point, knowing that neither he nor his liege cared for small talk. "I received a note." Expectant silence greeted his words, and he took it as a silent permission for him to proceed. His hand slipped into his long coat's pocket and withdrew a folded piece of crisp white parchment: unremarkable, nondescript and small. Presenting it to the silent prince, who looked at the mysterious letter with calculating onyx eyes, his curiosity evidently piqued and clearly waiting for further explanation, the young earl continued. "It was given to me by an urchin in the alley behind the theatre—" the prince gave him a smoothly pointed look at this revelation, and he lifted the hand that held his lit cigar in answer to the unspoken query without so much as pausing, "—from who, the child or the note did not say. I just knew it had something to do with you—with _that_—but when I came back in to inform you, you'd already gone to answer your summons. And since the king had either sent the royal stagecoach to retrieve you, or had come to _fetch_ you instead," Shikamaru couldn't resist the smirk that emerged at the slight twitch in his prince's brow at the accursed word, "I knew he'd either order you to stay over at the palace, or drop you off at your townhouse." He expelled a hot puff of acidic air. "Your bodyguards are on their way there, by the way."

"...I see," was the young royal's only answer, an irritated grunt unmistakably laced in those two polished words, as he took the mysterious note from his ever deductive friend, angling it in his hands to allow a ray of silver light to slash across the starched velum. He read:

_My lord—_

_I have information I'm told you might take a great interest in—one of pressing and grave import. It concerns a person whom I'm told you've met in Root. Meet me at a local tavern found at the edge of the capital called _Ichiraku._ There, I'll await your arrival._

_Ichiraku_?

"Interesting," commented an unimpressed Sasuke.

Shikamaru shrugged in turn, clearly not thinking much of the note either. He took another drag at his cigar before nodding to the curt missive in the other noble's hand, his voice, raspy and almost always thick with boredom, laced with a faint humor he seldom felt. "Cryptic, isn't it?"

"Suspicious," was the instant assent.

"Foolish."

"_Trap_." The words were formed on predatorily smirking sensual lips, agile tongue rolling over it with evident relish.

"Troublesome," the other man heaved yet another weary sigh, never once lifting from his relaxed position, taking in another inhale of his expensive cheroot and expelling more acrid smoke into the cool atmosphere.

"Hn, it is." Still smirking, Sasuke folded the obscure missive carefully in his hands, a gleam of unholy anticipation shone brightly in his unfathomable onyx orbs. "But who are we to disregard a blatant invitation?"

Shikamaru tilted his head back to look at him through dark eyes, rich brown hair cast in a luminescent glow from the shafts of silver light and unidentifiable shadows flitting across the angular features of a man no lady would cast from her downy bed. "Reckless buggers," the young earl answered with his own indulgent smirk.

Hn, and that they were, for neither of them were stupid. The note was an obvious trap, plain and simple, clear as day; a deliberate attempt to lure him out of his safety zone, away from the privileged limelight. Out of the vigilant watch of his entourage of half a dozen royal guards, the malicious bastards probably thought he'd be easy prey. Then again...after the stunt pulled up at Root, Sasuke supposed the bloody ingrates had sufficient cause to be so complacent. He'd been careless then, caught off guard. But if they thought they could pull the same trick on him twice, that he'd be any easier to subdue, that he'd be just as gullible, they had another think coming.

Nevertheless, no matter how blatant the threat was in this situation, it was one both young nobles knew they could not pass up, despite the risks of plunging in to certain death.

And besides, who was to say _they_ weren't the ones falling into a trap themselves?

-XxxxX-

In the darkness, beneath the shadows of tall, gnarled, leafless trees, they hid. And out of sight, they waited in tense silence, allowing the encompassing tranquillity of the late evening to mask their criminal intent. They watched the snow-dusted road that looked like a long, glowing strip of pale silver and indigo from where they stood in rapt attention, becoming as unmoving as the soldering trees that littered the dead woods. Their night's vigil coming into fruition in the form of a handsome gig, sleek and efficient as it came gliding gracefully up the snaking path, a team of four majestic steeds pulling and heaving at the opulent dark green cab.

An owl hooted; an inconspicuous crow that reverberated through the woodland's stillness.

The signal...

"Not bad," breathed a man well concealed in the shadows, interested eyes trailing after the smart coach. "Pretty slick."

"And ripe for the picking," the shorter figure beside him concurred from where they were crouched on the snow piled ground, smirking and turning around to face enthusiastic cohorts. "All right, gentlemen, you know what to do. Rogue," his shrouded leader glanced at him, tipping a cowl-concealed head in a vague nod, "you cover the tail. Grizzly," unseen eyes flew to the other man, tossing him a small well-worn pouch, one that he caught without much effort. It emitted a faint clink in his calloused hand. "You and Spider flank it. Give it a little nudge."

And so, with smirking faces, the nods of accord broke them into stealthy action, silently moving through the woods they knew so well.

Rogue grinned down at his infamous leader as he passed. "Getting excited, are we?"

"'Course, I am," The Night Phantom grinned in return, manoeuvring the docile steed noiselessly through the stiff acres. In one graceful swoop, the bandit mounted, crouching lowing on the sooty horse's neck, straight white teeth flashing in the moonlight. "We've got another legend to weave."

Rogue chuckled at those parting words, shaking his head in wry amusement before slipping further into the crevices of the night, becoming one with the wavering shadows, awaiting with excited anticipation the perfect time to strike.

And, indeed, in the shelter of the midnight's mysteries, they waited...

-XxxxX-

Everything was working out as planned, it seemed, right down to every painstaking detail, and the thought made Sasuke's sinister pleasure deepen, his earlier mood of sullen hopelessness forgotten. He turned his own dark gaze to the cab's open windows, settled back into his cushioned seat, and draped a lean arm over the edge of the windowsill. He stared out pensively, letting the cold blasts of winter's wind sting his face and whip his downy hair to wild unruliness, watching absently as the cobbled sophistication of Leaf gave way to the more rough sceneries of bare fields and rolling hills and snow-capped mountains. Leafless trees, tall, ominous and twisted, began to dot the expansive terrains, vast lands as far as the eye could see bathed in the pale silver cream of the moon's glow, mating with the unrelenting darkness of the woods. Snow covered every inch of the area, giving a crystallized purity in a scene that was stuck in a season so devoid of life.

Beneath the bounteous beams of Luna above, the winding road rolled on, and on, hugging the serpentine roads of the quaint country side, so much like his life passing him by, with only one destination ever in mind.

Vengeance was all he lived for now...

Just then, the coach jolted, running over an unexpected bump in the road, and Sasuke winced as the entire cab jangled in its oiled springs. Did Shikamaru hire a new coachman? The previous one was not usually so careless, what with Shikamaru being more partial to leisurely rides. But then—not a few moments later, they hit another, and another, the stylish landau finally coming to a none-too-gentle swivelling halt at a rut in the road.

And then, there was just silence.

A frantic whinny rent the air. Shouts erupted like a stirring rumble of chaotic thunder. Gunfire ripped through the midnight chill.

Sasuke's eyes narrowed in the cool gloom, sharp onyx pools darting from the open windows to share a meaningful glance with the equally clever earl. Was this their enemy's trap? _An ambush?_ The prince smirked at the very possible idea. God, this was easier than he'd initially thought. Clearly they'd underestimated him.

Now they were going to pay for that mistake.

Instantly alert, the young nobles burst into stealthy action with Sasuke silently edging to the open window, intent on stealing a glance at his sly adversaries, whilst Shikamaru furtively leaned down to open a compartment beneath his cushioned seat, moving with an efficiency that was curiously absent of his constant lethargy. From the hidden alcove, he withdrew a pair of polished pistols, locked and loaded and both gleaming ivory in the pale moon's light. With expert finesse, he handed one to his sovereign's wayward scion, who took the lethal weapon with a deadly smoothness that bespoke of his familiarity of such a fatal tool. With the briefest of glances at each other, an unspoken exchange passing between them, they both slid in poised position.

They were both slightly outnumbered, but it was not odds he knew Shikamaru and he could not handle. Despite their rather pampered upbringing, they were far from the endless dandies the _Ton_ seemed to infinitely breed. Indeed, after The Incident seven years ago, Sasuke took it upon himself to be in tip-top shape for any fray. And Shadow was no slouch either.

But then—the silver light flickered, the shadows shifted, casting bright beams over the immobile carriage. Sasuke caught a glimpse of his bold assailants. The sight of them, so clearly outlined by the pale rays, gave him cause for hesitation, the eager adrenaline at having finally caught onto his malicious foes dissipating into one of slight confusion.

"The Night Phantom?" Shika breathed quietly, apparently equally as bemused as he was.

Sasuke frowned. This wasn't right. The merry band of mischievous highwaymen couldn't be his assassins, not even as hired ones. They just couldn't.

For all the glorified crimes the Night Phantom executed, murder was not one of them. Indeed, that certain peculiarity was one of what made the young bandit so infamous and so well loved by the common folk of Fire. Unlike most normal, desperate highwaymen, the infantile robber had a more unconventional taste for his escapades, and none of his legendary robberies had ever been accompanied by bloodshed. A few pranks here and there on the snootiest of nobles, maybe, but hardly anything alarmingly violent was ever done. Even the prince could admit that he'd found it amusing, especially when the romantic brigand set his hell-raising shenanigans loose on his friends and acquaintances—though all of them thought quite the contrary.

What was the most curious of all, however, was his lack of assault on anyone from the royal family, an exponential contradiction to the Robin Hood character the capricious lad clearly fancied himself to be.

Until now.

Through narrowed eyes, Sasuke shot his boyhood friend an annoyed glance, the slight pucker in his brow still marring his usually smooth features. Normally he would be intrigued by this new brand of development, the inherently thrill-seeking soul inside him rising in anticipation for this bit of excitement. Hell, he would have even relished the thought of a confrontation with the notorious outlaw—really it was only a matter of time—whose incongruous reputation nearly matched his own. But right now...

_Right now_ was not the time for this bloody fancy bit of foolishness.

His enemies were waiting for him, his trap awaiting his machinations. He did _not_ have time for this silly robbery.

_Impudent little bastard has the worst timing._

For a while now, the lad had been unstoppable, not even the authorities issued by the king himself to detain the juvenile robber and his gang could stop their mischief making. But that was before the bandit took it upon his misguided self to try and steal from the disreputable prince. Pressed for time as he was, Sasuke decided that it was time to make quick work of Fire's illicit Robin Hood. Despite having been intrigued by the kid's misbegotten chivalry, it would not do well to have him free to gallivant around the country, bragging about robbing the Crown Prince himself. The general public already held his ill-repute in scathing disapproval as it was.

That, and in the light of the fact that he already had one imminently huge scandal in his hands—once his disownment got out, he'd be hard-pressed to quell any talk, regardless of his considerable power in the fashionable world—any cause for more gossip was just pushing it.

And so, with a cocked pistol in one masterful hand, the door latch in the other, well aware of the fact that they were well and truly alone in this lonely countryside road, Sasuke sent Shikamaru an instigating nod. Between the two of them, The Night Phantom and his gang won't know what hit them.

-XxxxX-

Meanwhile, out on the snow-laden road, prey to the bite of the cold breeze, the Night Phantom commandeered the ensuing chaos, shouting imperiously at the coachman to stand down and surrender—a demand the stubborn fellow understandably refused to heed. Geared for a lively fight, the highwayman reined in his sprightly mount as the others closed in on the inert landau, with Grizzly taking to the fore to placate the wildly rearing horses and reaching out for the leader's traces, whilst the other two stalked to the coach doors. With the team under control, the legendary thief turned to the expensive coach, paying no mind to the frantic coachman waving a pistol threateningly as he screamed choice obscenities like a seasoned sailor, knowing full well that those crude weapons were just for show. They never open fired.

But it seemed like the thought emerged too soon, for The Night Phantom had barely taken his mount a few steps to the cab, when the coach doors burst open and two formidable figures leaned out from each side, an ivory barrel pointed dangerously at the two of his men's heads—Rogue's and Spider's, to be exact.

The Night Phantom froze in place.

_Shit_.

"Do you need something, gentlemen?" one of the figures drawled coolly, the soft timbre seeming to reverberate through the dancing shadows.

The illusive highwayman's only answer to the smooth quip was to stare at the cocked pistols, shocked and speechless, caught off guard. _What the _hell?

"Hands up in the air or we'll shoot," the other intoned, sure hands holding the gun steady and accurately aimed at its target.

Sakura's mind blanked into incoherent panic. Shit. Shit. Shit._ Shit_. This...was not good! she thought frantically, her heart and mind racing a mile a minute. Not good at all.

They were_ caught_, unbelievable as it was! What were they going to do now? They hadn't expected this. They'd been careless, idiotic—damn it, _they were dead_!

Her mouth ran dry at the thought.

_No, get a grip!_ She mentally chided. _Calm down._.._calm down._ Because if she didn't do so soon, they really _were_ going to be food for the maggots. And she didn't want that. Not at all. Swing lifeless on the triple-tree was definitely _not_ part of her master plan, not when everything was going so well.

No. They still had a chance at this. In all her celebrated adventures as the Night Phantom, she had yet to be outdone, and she'd be damned if that changed now.

But..._but how do we get out of this? _Should she call their bluff? There was a highly probable chance that those guns weren't even loaded. Most peers of the realm could barely shoot a pistol properly, much less know how to actually use one. But what if they _were_ loaded? She couldn't risk Kiba and Shino's lives on a wild hunch. Not even for loot. And from the way their intended 'victims' were holding those lethal weapons...she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that those men knew what they were doing.

And they _definitely _had no qualms about pushing through with it, too.

"Night?" Rogue's husky voice drifted softly through the tense stillness, the slight quaver wrapped around the usually cocky fellow's tone effectively breaking through her dazed stupor, watching in morbid fascination as her best friend lifted his hands slowly, deliberately, as if any sudden movements would blast his skull to kingdom come.

_Which is probably what is going to happen if I don't do anything soon!_ Her heart in her throat, the stricken eyes behind the half-mask trailed to the side, her mind whirring. By the mollified team, she saw Grizzly stand as still as a statue, big hands clutching the traces in a white-knuckled grip, his own wide eyes showing the fear he felt not at being held at gun point by the noisy coachman, but at the precarious position his friends were clearly in.

One of the horses snorted.

_The horses!_

With that single thought in mind and her heart pounding in her ears, the Night Phantom exploded into action, tightening a gauntleted hold on the reins, and reeling her horse back onto into haunches, the dirty steed braying out a great whinny. In that same motion, she withdrew the light rapier from its cool sheath nestled at one hip, taking advantage of the mare's downward momentum to cut through the leather bridles that held the healthy bucks in place, causing a surprised Chouji to stumble hurriedly out of the way.

Not a second later, the heaving mounts broke free with spirited neighs, kicking up snow and mud from the ground to lurch their way into unrestrained freedom as the Night Phantom's equine accomplice landed on sturdy front hooves with a muffled thud against the mud-splattered snow.

Amazed, the coachman and the aristocrats stared after the fleeing bucks, aghast and momentarily distracted—but by the time they could gather their bearings again, it was too late. The momentary shock of the horses breaking free was a precious moment lost, their upper hand stolen, for those precious seconds were evidently enough to launch the brigands into swift action. In a matter of moments, the dandies were disarmed, subdued, and held at unmerciful sword point, their arms up and defenceless. Even the pitiful coachman sprawled on his ass on the snow was petrified frozen by a sword angled at his neck.

Sakura heaved out a relieved breath. _Situation under control_. Looking over at the circle of armed men surrounding the unarmed captives, the quick-thinking young lady-robber urged her mare forward; bringing a cautious hand to the hem of her dark cowl to make sure it hadn't fallen off or shown any part of her face, taking refuge, as she always did during her exploits, in the shadows it cast about her concealed features. Rogue and Spider moved a step or two back to admit her into their guarded circle when she drew near.

"You all right?" Rogue—Kiba—asked quietly, sparing a second's glance at the darkly clad bandit.

"I could ask you the same question," she answered lightly, running a quick, assessing glance at her friends—her men as it were, considering their current roles. They were all looking a little rumpled but none the worse for wear. _Thank God_. This had to be, by far, the closest they got to capture, and it was not a pleasing thought.

"Peachy," her friend provided blithely, his sharp gaze once again trained on their defiant prisoners. "Just..._peachy_."

Sakura accepted his answer with a small nod, her narrowed orbs finally zoning on their captives. There wasn't much to see in the deepening shadows of the wood lined road, but the full moon lent enough creamy light for her to pick out just how smartly dressed their captured aristocrats were—enough to sense the haughty air of the privileged about them, despite the different bearing each man exuded. It made her wonder if they were one of the rakehell prince's lackeys, and if so, which ones. Not that it mattered. Royal flunkies or not, she could tell she and her gang had hit the jackpot. It was going to be a good night—polished to the boot, and looking rich enough to dress down, as they were.

She smiled wickedly at the thought. Hopefully they were rich enough to pay her staggering taxes and feed the rest of her people throughout the rest of winter. Inari was but a week away from returning after all, and nothing would give her more pleasure than to shove a bag of monies and a few choice insults at him when he came collecting, and send him on his sputtering way. They were going to be rid of his soon enough.

Taking a deep, bolstering breath, her mind flying to the legal wedding parchments lying at the bottom of her trunk, she tapped her booted ankles on Katsuyu's flanks, allowing her compliant mare to circle around the wealthy dandies in an intimidating action that she knew would set her victims on edge.

_Best we get this over with_, she thought.

-XxxxX-

"Just a little more, guys, we'll find him soon,"

Moegi yawned tiredly, huddling closer to her woollen coat. "You've been saying that for the past three hours, Konohamaru. I don't see him anywhere."

"He'll be here, trust me," Konohamaru assured his team as he trudged on, worn boots stomping through icy piles. _He just has to be_.

"I trust you, Kono," Udon sniffed thickly, his own steps now lethargic and dragging through the damp snow. He paid no mind to the snot and mucus trailing down his stuffy nose anymore, his spectacles clouding his obscure vision. He was _so_ tired. And hungry too. "But...we've been walking for hours now."

"And it's getting really late," Moegi agreed.

"Really, _really_ late," the other child added.

Their leader stopped in his tracks at the obvious complaints, spinning around to face them with a flashing fury in his eyes, his long scarf whipping wildly about his form in seeming to his frustration, and the iron lantern swinging wildly in his mitten-encased hand. "So, what are you saying?" Konohamaru demanded, pinning his friends in a piercingly shrewd stare that he obviously picked up from his sister. "That we should turn back? That—that we should just forget about this?" He stared, appalled, when his friends' glum faces said it all, and the infamous temper that ran in his family exploded in a furious gust. "You _guys_! Do you want to be bandits or not? This is the Night Phantom, you guys! The _Night Phantom_! This is the only chance we've got, and we're already so _close_! You can't give up now!"

"But we're hungry," Moegi defended feebly, fidgeting with the tail of the red knitted scarf wrapped around her neck.

Udon shifted meekly on his booted feet. "And we're tired."

"And sleepy,"

"So? I am, too! And the Night Phantom probably is also, but does that stop him from being a hero?" he didn't pause to hear their answer, impassioned by his determination to meet his hero. "No, it doesn't! He goes out here in the cold and the dark, waiting to rob from rich people who could care less about us so he can help us! He risks his life to help people, and all you care about is your _needs_?"

Moegi and Udon blinked owlishly up at him, before glumly hanging their heads in regret. "We're sorry," they mumbled repentantly, their regretful faces stark in the lantern's meagre light...

Placated and grinning, Konohamaru started to encourage them on again, when a rolling sound of pounding hooves rumbled through the chilly atmosphere. Bemused, the ten-year-old, turned to look over his shoulder, only for deep brown eyes to widen at the sight of four large horses stampeding down the quiet road.

Heading their way...

"_Run_!" the Haruno boy yelled as he and his troop rushed to the safety of the trees.

They watched with wide-eyed fascination as the large mounts rushed past at a hurtling speed, because bandit or no, it was definitely _not _cool to get trampled by full grown horses.

_Though dodging them definitely is!_ thought an excited Konohamaru, his blood rushing through his veins at the close call. _Wait till Sakura hears about this!_

"What was that all about?" Moegi wondered out loud, her voice a bit shaky, her sleepiness forgotten in the wake of the danger she'd just faced.

"Those looked like carriage horses," Udon pointed out tentatively, taking off his misty glasses and wiping them on his soggy scarf with trembling hands, putting them back on and turning his head in the direction from which the horses came.

Moegi and Konohamaru looked at each other with wide, knowing looks at those words, quickly putting two and two together.

"_The Night Phantom!_"

-XxxxX-

"Well, well, well," the lady-bandit taunted in low tones, allowing a rasp to disguise her voice, "look what have we here? Two wastrels out for a night's thrill." She smirked beneath her mask. "How very fortunate for us."

Kiba and Chouji rumbled out rich cursory sinister chuckles that made Sakura mentally shake her head in fond amusement at her friends' antics. They always did have a flair for drama because, _clearly,_ they relished their roles as the nation's romantic heroes far too much. Not that she could blame them. Masquerading as the Night Phantom gave her as much a thrill.

However—

"How troublesome," one of the two men answered her issued bray, sighing heavily; a simple tired heave that bespoke of a bone-deep weariness that, despite herself, piqued her curiosity.

A cool eyebrow rose at the dejected sound as pools of spring viridian ran over the well-heeled noble lackey's slouched figure. The lazy, faintly irritated calmness he exuded, an oddity in light of their rather precarious predicament. Normally, victims of her robberies would either be chanting a stream of embarrassing pleas for mercy—for their money or otherwise—or spewing hauteur curses or hollow threats that could give a tavern drunk a run for his money by now. But the man, nor his companion, did any of those things. Indeed, they even seemed a bit...unmoved by the whole situation.

_What strange fellows..._she thought as she surveyed them with renewed interest. Her wide, vivid orbs shrouded beneath the unfathomable shadows her hood and framed behind the course, dark fabric of her half-mask, she took in every detail the meagre silvery light would offer her.

One man, the one that had spoken, though expensively dressed, stood with his arms still up and hunched over at the shoulders. He had a lean form, lithe and long, and from what she could pick out from the dancing moonbeams, he had gleaming dark hair. As to its exact color, she could not tell, but it was evidently pulled back into a slick queue that revealed a proud forehead and a fine straight nose. His shrouded dark eyes were narrowed, though curiously enough, it was not in hostility, but in unexpected boredom, his atypical demeanor apathetic, sluggish. Like the robbery was merely a proceeding he was forced to attend, and he wanted nothing more than for such a mundane task to be over with lest he die of a serious case of tedium.

Strange, indeed.

With her brows furrowed, she let her gaze slowly drift to the silent man beside him—

Her breath caught in her throat.

For a small, infinitesimal moment, she was struck by a tidal wave of wondering awe at the sight of him. He stood there, straight, braced and proud, the tense lines of his silhouette obviously coiled to strike, even though he had, just like his travel companion, both strong arms up and rendered utterly unprotected. But, somehow, even in the vulnerability of his pose, Sakura couldn't help but notice how utterly un-defenceless he looked. Poised and coiled to strike, braced and proud, he looked like a fallen warrior unwilling to accept defeat. No, a man as impressive as this was not, and could never be defenceless. Never so powerless.

Tall, broad-shouldered, powerfully built, and emanating a power so raw that not even the long shadows of the deepening night could conceal its suffocating intensity, the lady-bandit knew that this was a man who commanded the world at his feet.

A dangerous man.

A frightening one.

A man not to be taken lightly.

Sakura suppressed a dark, not entirely unpleasant shiver at the foreboding thought, casting about for all the bravado she possessed to press on. Her instincts told her to clear out immediately, that if she stayed longer, she would just be inviting more trouble than what she was willing to risk. But another part of her held her rooted to the spot, knowing full well that now was not the time to chicken out, to let her fears and doubts overtake her. Not when all of her plans were finally in place. Not when their freedom was, at last, right at her fingertips.

Shaking herself out of her awed reverie, canting her horse into motion once more, she leaned toward them from her saddle, a smug smile gracing her lips. "We'll make this quick, gentlemen." And with those words, she gave a single nod to her men who responded to her silent signal efficiently.

Chouji moved away from the petrified coachman still sprawled on the cold ground, as Shino took up where the grizzly left off, aiming a well-handled pistol at the servant, even as he held the lanky noble at steady sword point. Kiba remained at his post, dark eyes watchful, even as Chouji lumbered to the landau with an empty sack to retrieve the loot, his sharp gaze never leaving the other captive. It was clear Dog Boy sensed what Sakura could.

The man was dangerous, and it wouldn't do to let their guard down.

Still, if she were to be honest with herself, she was intrigued by their unlikely catch, especially the one standing tense beneath the dancing pearly beams. His eyes were narrowed into dangerous slits, hard, flinty and unfathomable in the darkness, his mouth an unforgiving narrow line. She let her eyes trail over him, and once again wondered which of the prince's sycophantic entourage he was. If she'd robbed him before, she had no doubt that she would have remembered it.

His presence alone was not an easy thing to forget.

And then she saw it, glinting tantalizingly in the moonlight.

Sakura sat up straight in her saddle imperiously. "Hand over your ring, sir."

Treacherous orbs hidden in the shadow, snapped to hers, flashing threateningly. And then, he spoke in clipped tones so cool, it was enough to freeze the terrain a second time over. "No."

"No?" Sakura brazened, ignoring the inner warnings shouting at her not to press further. "You act like you have a choice,"

The man merely smiled a smile that was sinister enough to set the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. "I do. I can simply kill you."

Sakura's throat ran dry at his straightforward words, her heart pounding in a staccato she vaguely recognized as fear. Kiba sputtered in protest from a little ways behind her, fully intending to give the man tit for his threatening tat, but she silenced him with a raise of her hand. She wasn't going to let this man intimidate her. She feared no one.

_Least of all pampered fops. _She answered him with a narrow smile of her own, even as she raised her customized rapier in her hand, and traced the flat blade oh-so tenderly down the side of his marble smooth face. His jaw clenched, the angered reaction bolstering her confidence. Tipping the blade below a sculpted chin to tilt his head higher, she whispered her own winter kissed threat, "It'd do you well to remember your position, my lord."

His smile turned chilling. "You will die for you interference."

Her heart stilled, and before she could rail an appropriate response to his lordship's menacing words, something far more frightening than the deadly threats of a nobleman caught her ears.

"Hey, Mister _Night Phantom_! We've come to help!"

-XxxxX-

**A/n:** There you have it! The chapter you've all been waiting for—the long awaited reunion...even though neither of them know that yet. xD Now, I know some of you thought the Night Phantom was Naruto, and truth be told, I did consider it, because being a bandit _is_ something Naruto would do, but since this is not only SasuSaku, but also a historical romance, I thought I should focus more on the two of them more. And adding a bandit Naruto would just be asking for trouble. This story's already messed up as it is without him adding into the mix. Don't worry though, our lovable blonde will show up in the story soon. _Naruto_ wouldn't be _Naruto_ without him, no matter the genre.

Thank you for the reviews! I really appreciate them! They're the source of my inspiration and motivation! Also, a huge, _ginormous_ thank you to my beta, _cutecrazyice_! Seriously, I would be lost without you! ;)

Until the next time! _Ciao!_


	8. The Impact

**Hooded Lies**

_The Impact_

The second the achingly familiar voice of the one person she cared for most in the world reached her ears, Sakura felt her very being still, the blood instantly draining from her shrouded, yet chill bitten face. In that single moment, her world narrowed, blanked out, and all that was left was the painful blow of shocked disbelief, even as she whipped around with wide, wild eyes, seeking the night's stifling blanket of darkness for a terrifying sight she so desperately hoped was not there. _No._ _God, please, no. _It couldn't be...It just couldn't...There was _no way_.

Her prayers, however, were left unanswered, for right there, in the dirty snow, her frantic gaze found purchase in a small figure silhouetted by the silver beams of moonlight, large, innocent eyes reflecting the dim golden glow of the rusty lantern, excited and joyful, filled with admiration; a wide, toothy grin spread across eager features—her very nightmare come true.

_Konohamaru!_ Her blood ran cold in her veins. The very air she breathed flew out of her lungs in a painful rush. And, suddenly, all she knew was fear. A terrifying iced marble she was suddenly encased in, trapped, unable to break free, frozen for that one infinitesimal moment.

But in that momentary lapse of action—a mere split second of distraction, of recognition—was her downfall. It was all it took for her captive to gain the leverage to retaliate, and before she even realized what was happening, before she could even react properly, the rapier that was steadily poised at her prisoner's neck was promptly knocked from her sure grasp. And all at once she was seized at the wrist by large, cool hands. A surprised gasp escaped her pale lips, completely caught off guard. Alarmed, she struggled to remain astride her horse, kicking and punching at the formidable foe trying to bodily pull her off, even as she became distantly aware of the scuffle that had almost immediately broken out between her friends and the other despondent lordship. The two wastrels working in perfect tandem to disable their infamous robbers

_No, no, no!_ This was not happening. This was _not happening!_

What was going on? Her mind scrambled to understand, trying to catch her confused, racing thoughts. What was Konohamaru doing here? _Why _was he even here? Why wasn't he at home, safe, with Grandma Chiyo? _Oh dear Lord,_ she had to get him out of here—fast! He could get caught in the crossfire. He could get hurt. He could..._he could_...and if something ever happened to him...

A sense of frightened urgency welled up within her at the thought, and something akin to panic threatened to overwhelm her.

_If something happened to him..._

"Let go of me!" She emitted a frustrated cry, still fighting off the persistent man's hold, to no avail, her heart leaping to her throat with the first stirrings of terror at the direction her thoughts.

_If something happened to him..._

"Don't worry, Mister Night Phantom! We'll help you!" came a childish cry of support from somewhere behind her, followed by the muffled drumming of small feet charging across the ice-speckled road.

She panicked. _No! Konohamaru!_

If something happened to him, she would never be able to live it down.

She began her struggles anew, every fiber of her being screaming at her to race to her brother's side and get him as far away from the situation as possible. She couldn't allow him to get hurt. She couldn't _allow _anything to happen to him. _She couldn't risk_ _Konohamaru_.

And so, with that frenzied thought in mind and the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the Night Phantom kicked her assailant with a furious, wordless roar, hitting him in the chest with such force, it was enough to make him stumble back a few steps with a muffled curse. Finally free of her attacker, her thoughts still running away with her, she immediately twisted around, her eyes catching sight of the children, three of them—Konohamaru and two of his friends from the village—bravely jogging towards her from a few yards away, charging to her aid.

_I have to get them away from here!_ Tightening her grip on the leather reins with sure gauntleted hands, she glanced around for her companions to see how they were doing, the intention of calling them back already on her lips.

It didn't take her long to spot Shino crouched to the frosty ground on a man's back, holding the coachman who was screaming every crude obscenity there was, down. A quick flick of her eyes a little ways away found Kiba grappling with the other captive for a pistol. And Chouji...Her surveying green eyes searched for the last member of their ragtag band, and saw him just stepping down from the expensively gleaming landau a second later, holding onto a large coin-laden sack, shock plastered across his masked features, surprise, confusion and indecision mingled with his apprehensive expression.

Sakura made the decision for him. "_Chouji!_ The children!"

Snapping at attention, her soft-hearted grizzly did as he was told, tucking the large sack under a massive arm. He lumbered towards the eager minors, stopping them halfway and herding them back to relative safety. Awe-inspired gasps followed by distant groaning of childish protests met her ears, but Chouji was enormous enough, to half carry, half drag the youngsters back to the engulfing gloom of the dead woods.

Marginally reassured of her brother's safety, Sakura turned back to her other companions, ready to call the order of retreat—something that had never actually happened before, a track record that was quickly becoming a necessary sacrifice to make. It was a bitter pill to swallow, the proud bandit in her railing at the concept, but even in her panicked state, she knew that things were starting to get out of hand. Obviously his lordships were no incompetent dandies, unable to defend themselves. Far from it, by the looks of it. And as much as she, the Night Phantom, hated to admit it, to back down from anyone—least of all from any of the haughty members of nobility—with the untimely arrival of the children, casualties could happen, unnecessary ones that could put them all at risk.

A risk she was not willing to take.

It was time to wrap things up and get a move on.

So immersed in her thoughts of retreat was she, however, that she was unprepared for another assault from the man she'd just kicked, her relief short-lived. In an impressive display of agility, he was upon her once again, leaping masterfully towards her without a word, without a sound, startling her docile mare into rearing onto its hind legs, a terrified whinny echoing from its thick equine lips.

Its sudden jerky movement left the young lady-bandit scrambling for purchase, clinging to the reins in a white-knuckled grip with a soft curse, fighting valiantly for precious balance. But even as she tried to regain control of her faithful stead, her precarious position had left her vulnerable, unable as she was, to pay attention to her determined enemy; one who saw the sly chance to overpower her with his sheer physical strength by snatching her around the waist, effectively pulling her down and out of her worn saddle, the skittish mare finally dancing away from the threatening built of its shadowed aggressor.

Roughly, without much preamble, her captor swiftly hauled her down and around, a disorienting rush of vertigo briefly washing over her, accompanying the hallow descent of her heart to the snow bitten soil. When she regained her scattered bearings, Sakura snarled and snapped at her dogged opponent with a wordless cry of fury. Her rising panic and fear for her brother coalesced into an uncontrollable form of hysteria and she struggled against his unmerciful hold with feral abandon, his capable hands like bands of unforgiving steel on her upper arms, biting into her flesh hard enough that she knew they were sure to leave unsightly bruises.

The man—formerly her captive, ironically enough—towered over her, a fearsome being cloaked in darkness. She looked up at him with wide pools of jade, frantic defiance swirling within them, suddenly struck in momentary awe—and not a small dose of dread—by the realization of how much taller he was now that she was on level ground. Power poured from every inch of him; the tense set of his shoulders a threat, the flinty glint of his soulless eyes piercing weapons that paralyzed her heart. This close, she could almost see every fine detail the shadows lovingly caressing his regal features would allow, from the way his dark hair framed his marbled visage, to the way he looked down his aristocratic nose with narrowed dark orbs filled with arrogant disdain.

He looked every bit as dangerous as she'd first thought he was.

A beautiful barbarian in elegant clothing.

And Sakura was captivated.

Just then, a niggling thought brushed her mesmerized senses, a formless recollection she could not quite grasp. Something about him was familiar, was telling her she recognized him from somewhere she couldn't somehow place—

And then he spoke, his voice low, clipped. A smooth, dangerous timbre. "You're caught, bandit."

—and the spell was broken, the phantom thought forgotten, swept away by the clouding tide of panic.

Her struggles renewed; the single-minded thought of escape once again foremost in her mind. "Let me go, you bastard!" she demanded, even as she fought him with all her strength, his unbroken hold never faltering. "I said let me go! Let me—" she let out a frustrated howl, trying to kick at him but, with their close proximity, failed miserably. "_Unhand me!_"

"Struggling is futile. Yield," the magnificent barbarian intoned, the stillness in his tone a contradiction to the derisive scowl marring his otherwise smooth, shadowed brow.

One steely hand jerked her arm painfully to one side so forcefully she couldn't help but let out a short cry of pain. "Ow! Damn you!" And impulsively, defiantly, she hauled back, her abrupt movement giving her right arm just enough leverage to free itself from his steel-braced hold. Almost instinctively, she drew it back, her dainty hand immediately balling into a tiny yet capable fist, and landed a solid punch across the sculpted plains of his imperious face.

A vindictive sense of triumph rose within her chest at her brash actions. One that, unfortunately, lasted only but a fleeting second, before both of her forearms were snatched in a punishing grip, the darkened expression of her antagonist snarling in her face, his potent rage evident in the way his silky tone turned several degrees chillier. "I'll kill you."

"Let go!" She fought him, afraid but undeterred.

He gave her a jarring shake in retaliation, his grip ever tightening. "Give up."

"Go to hell!"

The wrath that stormed across his handsome countenance, however, was momentarily stayed by a curious faint rumbling from the distance that steadily grew louder, thunderous, echoing eerily in the gloomy winter night, a dull roar that was almost like a warning. Like thunder...Like...

_Like horse hooves_.

Distracted and distantly bemused, Sasuke cast a quick, cursory glance down the wide, frost-laden country road behind him, in the direction whence they came, and scowled when he saw a familiar sight. A sight in the distance that was both natural yet out of place in a lonely countryside well past midnight—the sight of the hulking form of a sturdy hackney coach barrelling down the barren rural path, tearing through with a purpose at breakneck speed, its carriage lights a blurring streak.

_Odd_, he thought, sharing a brief cautious look with the earl, who was still fighting off the burlier henchman, both of them at some sort of stalemate.

While it was not at all strange for the proud denizens of Leaf to go out for a nightly jaunt at the wee hours of the morning, to do so, so far out of the capital in the middle of winter was uncommon, although it was, admittedly, not entirely unheard of, seeing as he and Shikamaru were there, out in the cold. Scuffling with a band of foolish misfits. The prince had to inwardly sigh at the thought. And, an irritated one at that. The rotten miscreants_._

Still, the fact that someone in the city found it urgent enough to brave uneven grounds in the dead of the night, slippery with snow, and therefore made more perilous, was suspicious. He knew the charging carriage couldn't be a stagecoach. Public transports usually stop at nearby inns early in the night to accommodate weary travellers, and certainly none of the cosseted nobility—though many of them were eccentric enough to try—would dare choose to trek a cold night, when an endless string of winter and pre-spring soirees were there for them to attend. And even though Sasuke had also had his fair share of reckless races, he also knew that winter was not at all the most ideal time to engage in a sport that was already hazardous on the best of days, no matter how much of a daredevil the young buck may be.

Something was amiss. He just knew it. Sensed it. _Felt_ it.

At the corner of his eye, he watched the team of horses draw the coach closer, and something in Sasuke grew on edge, a foreboding feeling he couldn't shake, even as he imprisoned the impudent thief—the little bastard—in his crushing hold. The already stifling tension in the icy air around them thickened, melding into something that was almost substantial—a living being all on its own.

Something was not right.

"Hold still," he growled, sliding his hands up the skinny lad's wrists with the intention of holding them prison in one steely hand, half his attention on the encroaching carriage. Surprisingly, the spirited boy did as he was told, freezing in the prince's resilient clasp. Scowling, both in concentration and in bewilderment, Sasuke looked down at his prisoner just in time to bear witness to the way the kid drew in a sharp, stunned breath, his eyes fixated on something on his clenched grip.

"_You...!_"

Comprehension dawned, and Sasuke didn't need to follow the urchin's astounded gaze to know the thieving rascal was staring at the royal signet ring, the proof of his birthright, his privilege. His responsibility.

His _curse_.

_Not anymore_, he reminded himself grimly.

Even so, the satisfaction he felt at the Night Phantom's hoarse croak was enough to make him smirk mockingly down at the notorious thief, revelling in the way the defiance in his shrouded face morphed into horror. But even the pleasure he took at the boy's realization was short-lived, for in the next instant the deafening roar of pounding horse hooves drawing closer drowned out the night, the fierce whistle and crack of a whip rent the air, a cacophonous jangling, and then, shockingly, unexpectedly—

"Sasuke!" Shikamaru cried out a warning—in alarm—his opponent grunting in pain from the quick boxing combo the Earl of Shadow swiftly dealt him, a move that effectively sent the unrelenting bandit back.

—a deafening blow of gunshot.

The prince whipped around swiftly, just as a burning sort of pain exploded across his side.

_They shot him._

Sakura abruptly stumbled back on wobbling legs, unbalanced by the crashing momentum of her captor suddenly letting her go and sending her gracelessly to the ground with a squelching thump, her face now drained of any color, and the explosive sound of gunfire ringing in her hears. With wide, stupefied eyes, she stared at the hunched and grunting bulk before her, her heart and mind racing each other a mile a minute in a marathon competition.

Okay, what _in blazes_ was going on here? Just _what the hell _was happening?_ What—who—what the hell is going on_? She thought frenetically from where she just sat, frozen in shock, and a creeping sense of trepidation now clutching firmly at her gut. Her brain went on overdrive, and suddenly, Sakura felt like she was going to be sick.

This was too much. _Too much_. It was all happening so fast, so unexpectedly and without so much as a warning, it was all so hard for her to keep up. All she knew was that, one minute she was fighting off an arrogant yet utterly fearsome coxcomb, a split second before realizing how she had just made the biggest mistake in her entire sticky-fingered career—no, her entire _life_, because, well _shit_, she'd just ambushed the prince! The _prince_! If that didn't spell out a death sentence for treason, she didn't know what did. She was going to _hang_, and then she was going to _die_! Oh, God, she was going to die. Die for unwittingly committing treason! _Shit, shit, shit_—and the next...

_The next..._

_They shot him_. Her frantic mind, numbed from panic, supplied again.

Stunned emerald orbs swung to the encroaching coach, so close now, it was actually starting to slow down, catching a chilling silhouetted sight of a man with a smoking pistol gleaming under the erratic beams of silver hanging from his seasoned hand, sitting beside the reckless hackney driver urging the team of heaving geldings forward. Her dazed befuddlement doubled, her nerves stilling for a dreadful moment, before skyrocketing into new heights.

_Oh, God_.

A pained grunt and a rustle of movement caught her attention, causing her gaze to swing back to the injured man attempting to stand unsteadily on his feet before her.

_Oh, God, they shot him!_

And then...

_They shot the prince!_

All hell broke loose.

A barrage of bullets flew through the air, raining all around them, causing clumps of mud and snow to erupt erratically from the ground.

Snapping out of her confounded state and bursting into action, Sakura leaped to her feet, words of retreat unconsciously flying from her dry mouth, years-honed survival instincts finally taking over. "_Fall back!_" She shouted at her friends over the blasting din of the deadly projectiles, ducking, as she did, away from flying bullets.

"Sakura—" she heard Kiba start hoarsely from where he stood near the opulent carriage, a cringe on his shadowed features.

Sakura glanced at him over her shoulder in response to his call, and roared, "Come on!" before she turned back to the black woods they knew so well, stepping forward in the snow sluiced ground to begin her hasty flight, Kiba and Shino following suit. She didn't know what was happening, or even _why_ this was happening at all, but she'd be damned before any of them were caught in the crossfire of a fight that was obviously not hers.

Getting hurt was one thing...getting killed, on the other hand...well, that was never a part of the plan. Never had been.

Sure there were risks; all of them knew that. They weren't naive enough to think otherwise after having chosen the life of a highway bandit like they did. Their choice was not without its own dangers, but they had been risks they'd all been willing to take. Consequences they were willing to face. But even so, when Sakura had begun her little stint as the Night Phantom, fully aware of those risks, she had never allowed anyone to get hurt. Not any of her friends, or her victims. They stole, but they never took a life. When scuffles had broken out, she'd made sure it ended quickly.

Indeed, it had almost been like a game, one that got easier the more they played. They robbed, the nobility cowered. They leave the scene with hefty loot, and the highborn victims go back to their lavish mansions with a new dramatic clump of gossip to chew on and share to the rest of their peers, the sympathetic reputation of a martyr on their sleeves. The highborn aristocrats of Fire hardly even put up a fight, for all their bluff and bluster. The idea being "abused" by the famous night brigand was too much of a novelty for the bored _Ton_, and the _King's Road_ Bandits could do naught else but oblige.

After all, everybody won, didn't they?

But this...this was another thing entirely.

Half way to their woods of sanctuary, Sakura stole a guarded glance over her shoulder at the violent scene she intended to flee, her ears, still ringing from the deafening shots that had not long ago ceased, pounding with the rapid pumping of her blood. The storming carriage had now stopped entirely, its pair of reined horses snorting from their heavy exertions. And then—from the recesses of the hackney's lacquered structure, looking sinister despite its ordinary look, half a dozen men dismounted from the hulking mobile, their profiles cast sharply against the dim glow of their carriage lights, a threatening testament to their malicious intent. Morbidly transfixed, she watched as those same shadows advanced forward like a pack of starving wolves, stomping steadily and crudely through the dusty snow towards the two fallen young lords who had apparently found refuge from the unanticipated blitz of bullets behind their expensive landau. Watched as they trapped the polished duo against the gig in a threatening semi-circle, large gleaming knives swinging from their brawny hands. Watched as they moved in to attack.

_Watched as they tried to murder innocent men_.

Watched, watched, wa—

"_Sakura!_"

Unsteady bottle green eyes, glassy and faintly glazed from her horrific train of thought, darted towards the treeline. Found her friends' already there, astride their mounts and ready to getaway.

"What are you doing? Get over here!" hissed an urgent Kiba.

Found that she'd stopped halfway.

_Innocent men_. She swallowed against the uncomfortable lump that had risen in her throat.

"Sakura! What are you waiting for?"

That was a good question. What _was_ she waiting for?

"Hurry!"

She glanced back at the malevolent scene behind her, then back to the dark abyss that held the promise of safety. Of home. Family.

She didn't know, really. She didn't know.

Logic told her that she should flee the scene as fast as possible. Anything that happened here could incriminate her and her friends further, could endanger them all. Could get them all killed. She should go now. _Right now_. She should take her brother and his friends home where it was safe, and away from this chaos. This was not her problem. _This was not her fight_. She had problems of her own to deal with—Inari, the drought, her family's survival...

_Excuses_.

She should go; she knew she should.

_They're all _excuses.

But her feet just_ wouldn't budge_.

Indecision tugged at her heart, her conscience.

_They're innocent men_.

Because for all her righteous fight for justice, could she really allow soothing like this to happen? Could she really allow people to be murdered in cold blood? Could she really just walk away? Could she?

_Could she_?

...

Sakura liked to think so. Liked to think that she was hardened enough. Practical. Calculating.

It wasn't her business.

Maybe.

A soft equine snort trickled to her ears, like a soft call amidst her chaotic thoughts, followed by the soft padding of horse hooves. She glanced to her left, and found an allaying sight.

Possibly.

_Katsuyu_.

_Yes_.

With a deep fortifying breath, she resumed her wobbly stride, towards the cold, leafless trees that provided them refuge.

_But..._

She knew her answer.

And she also knew it was one she was going to regret.

-XxxxX-

"You okay?" Shikamaru's query was not more than a quiet murmur, his dark eyes, ever watchful, never straying from the threat slowly bearing down upon them. His calm, unruffled demeanor belying the unease he felt at this new—although not entirely surprising—turn of events in the way his lank body tensed, alert now and ready to take any and all the necessary actions to ensure his royal friend's safety, lean muscles subtly coiled under his rich garb, already anticipating the inevitable violence up ahead.

There were about half a dozen of them, all dressed in apparent rags befitting sadistic bandits, hungry for scrap. Bandits.

Shikamaru frowned, looking a little closer with observant eyes that uncannily saw beyond most facades, inwardly grateful for the dim glow their hackney provided, a small pool of light that was enough for him to see what he needed. _No. _Piercing eyes bore into the roughened visages cast harshly against the warm flames' glow. _Not bandits_. They seemed too experienced, more deadly and less desperate. Their movements practiced, done with deadly eager ease. Their strange weapons—sharp curving blades as long as an arm—glinted wickedly in the combined stray beams of the cool silver moonlight and the golden lantern shine, handled it with expert finesse, their quick waylaying style familiar, outdated, cliché even, but infinitely more efficient.

"Mercenaries." Sasuke grunted in lieu of answering his question, coming to the obvious conclusion the earl had, for it didn't really take a genius to realize what was happening. These men were mercenaries. Assassins, hired murderers.

Trained killers.

This was the ambush they'd been waiting for.

_How troublesome_. The young Earl of Shadow spared his boyhood mate a sparingly critical glance beside him, taking in every minute detail in barely a second, from the way the prince's normally proud shoulders hunched slightly to the way his right hand tried to staunch the hot blood steadily staining his silken coat to his pained grimace, jaw clenched and lips a stark, thin line, before latching his eyes back to their stalking assassins once again. It was obvious the wayward prince of Fire was in pain—a lot of it. But while Shika didn't know the extent of its severity yet, he was relieved to know that the imperial scion was able to withstand it thus far. Of course, knowing that Sasuke had a high tolerance for what could possibly be grave injuries did not really lessen the practical urgency to get him treated as soon as possible.

He needed to get Sasuke to a healer. Fast.

But first...He had deal with these taxing maniacs.

His lordship heaved a torpid sigh at the thought and the precious amount of effort he had to waste on the annoying buggers. He toyed with the smooth metal of the pistol he'd grappled that other troublesome bandit for in his loose grip. And to think he could be in his warm, comfortable bed right now, enjoying a good night's sleep. He couldn't help but heave another exasperated sigh. Sometimes, he really hated being dragged around like this. In the middle of bloody winter too. It was all just so...

_So troublesome_.

"Shikamaru." A deep voice laced in ice broke through the tension wrapped atmosphere, stilted, like a fragile glass about to break into a million chaotic pieces.

Calculating orbs at half-mast, said earl merely slanted his unconcerned gaze to the sovereign born beside him, just in time to see the man straighten to his full formidable height, confident shoulders rolling back and fathomless Uchiha orbs, soulless in its intensity, glittering with unholy rancor. One look at Fire's heir and Shadow knew it was no longer the scandalously beloved prince of the realm standing at the ready by his side, with well defined trained muscles cording in anticipation, but the vengeful avenger living within, lurking. Hungry. Eager.

Bloodthirsty.

One look at the man, and Shikamaru knew.

No one was going to survive this night.

_No._ Calmly, methodically, he brought the ivory-kissed revolver in his hand, cocked it and aimed with cool proficiency, alert half-mast orbs watching as their hired enemies launched their attack. He knew better.

No one was going to survive.

_All but one._

-XxxxX-

It was a gruesome scene. Primal. Magnificent. _Flawless_.

And it had all happened so fast.

So fast that...it even ended just as quickly.

Indeed, Sakura had barely even had the time to swing herself effortlessly onto her dust-crusted mare, reeling her around to charge back to the very fray they had so quickly bolted from, before the deadly scrimmage broke and peaked into a deadly dance of gunfire, masterful parries, graceful movements and lightning reflexes. She witnessed it all with wide eyes, enthralled by skilled display, her skin had sizzling as she whistled through the chilled air, her nerves strung taut and her ears deaf to the perplexed cries of her men even as Katsuyu's long sturdy limbs took her ever closer to where her aid was clearly needed.

Or so she'd thought.

As it was, the poor blokes never had a chance.

And by the time she'd reared her steed back and dismounted, the last of the malicious attackers had already fallen, their hateful features unknown to her, yet forever etched in the recognizable contortion of agony, vermillion stains seeping into the mud-soiled snow at their feet in thick rivulets. Frozen. Lifeless.

Dead.

_They're dead_.

Dear Lord...

"All but one."

Staggered, shaken emeralds flew towards the shadowed man with the refined and curt pronouncement, his lank person looming over a massive incapacitated mass of unconscious groaning man splayed ingloriously on the muddy ground, his head held at sure gunpoint. The man hardly even spared a glance her way, his entire focus on the bandit brought low; though she didn't doubt for one second that he'd be on her should she pose as any kind of threat—not that she was aware enough to be one, or even care or take offense. As it was, she had become so out of touch with herself at that moment, so dazed and astonished, that she hadn't even realized she'd spoken her thoughts out loud; an evidence to just how jumbled her head had become in so short a time. She could do little else but gape at the unsettling sight, really. She didn't even know whether to feel relieved, sickened or distressed by what she was seeing.

Bodies. Corpses.

Blood, everywhere. Rivers of it.

They killed them.

_They killed those men. Just like that_. Her mind had trouble wrapping around it. In all her widely sung adventures, not once had she ever thought of taking a life. Not even when the situation had bordered on violent. Looking over to the man standing so unruffled before here, his stance casua with barely a hair out of his perfect queue, his richly garbed profile bathed in warm pools of gold, it was all Sakura could do not to gawk at his projected nonchalance.

This was a man of the illustrious _Ton_, a nobleman of the upper echelon no doubt, one of the really, and apparently very few, skilled ones, possibly with military training and...and therefore, above and beyond the law.

_Weren't they always?_ A small voice inside her head jeered. One she studiously ignored, even as something inside her scoffed at her weak-hearted thoughts.

Really, what had she intended to do when she'd come charging along like some sanctimonious pillock? She sure as hell hadn't had _death_ in mind. Those men had obviously been out to kill them. They had no choice. The prince's safety was at—

A curt grunt cut through the ensuing silence, a soft, barely audible sound that was enough to break through the frailty of the aftermath calm that had come in the immediately heels of the shocking pandemonium that had just transpired.

_The prince!_ The single pressing thought brought her out of her internal conflict, shoved to the back of her mind for the moment, as pools of bottle green searched out the chaotic scene left over for the regal figure of her erstwhile, and apparently royal, captive.

And there he stood, his proud shoulders stooped, his tall form doubled over, a hand glued to his wounded side, the other still clutching tightly at an oddly shaped saber. Quite suddenly, he staggered to his knees with another pained grunt, using the unusual lance he had to purchase for lost balance and embedding it securely to the mud sloshed ground as he fell.

Sakura was by his side in instant, trained jade orbs already surveying the damage brought upon him.

"Sasuke," Shikamaru called out, his attention drawn to his fallen friend, concern finally marring his smooth brow. He took a step forward, a type of apprehensive urgency building inside him, even as deeply ingrained training overtook his senses. He needed to get Sasuke to safety.

_An Uchiha's need must be catered to above all others._

But then, a curious sight gave his progress pause. His intuitive eyes, though wary, taking in the Night Phantom's light tread, quick and graceful, and suddenly, he was there; the pauper crouched beside royalty.

Curious, indeed.

Standing slightly off to the side, far enough to watch the bizarre scene unfold, yet near enough for him to spring into action should the urchin decide to try and commit treason against the Crown, the chosen lord sworn to the protection of his prince watched as the man born to rule his motherland tensed, the boy at his side gingerly trying to peel the steely hand glued to his bleeding abrasion. Watched as the adored Night Phantom tried to bravely coax a, for all a lack of better comparison, wounded animal, his low, strident juvenile voice carrying over the frigid wind like a soothing balm.

"Please, sir," Shika heard him say. "Let me see your wound; I might be able to help." His friend's answering murmur was too low for him to hear, but judging by the rigid way he held himself, as still as death itself, the Nara earl could only infer the successor's terse refusal to the ragtag adolescent's plea.

For all intents and purposes, the Nara scion should be following his liege's example, knew he shouldn't even be allowing the wanted lad near the royal heir, not after he had attempted to rob them like they did. The young man had certainly proven himself to be a crafty one, seemingly harmless as he was; Shika highly doubted the infantile brigand had gotten to where he was now if he wasn't. In actuality, what he _should_ be doing was engaging the notorious highwayman in a duel, ending it quickly, capturing the hunted riffraff and taking him to jail, where he would finally await his long standing trial. It was only logical. Part of his duty, really. After all, there were a number of vicious patrons in the _Ton_ who would just _love_ to have the lad's head on a platter.

But then, that was neither here nor there, he supposed. He himself had nothing against the buck, having never been robbed by his merry band of thieves, nor had he been a subject to his immature, and yet rather creative antics. Personally, he thought it far too troublesome to hold a useless grudge; most of the lords and ladies of Leaf were just overreacting anyway. He'd be better off wasting his time sleeping, like he should be now, than mustering up the needless fury to be so vindictive. Nevertheless, despite the _Ton_'s obvious dislike—when one put it mildly, of course—of the mischievous outlaw, seeing him now in action, something about him tugged at his instincts. Instincts that Shikamaru rarely ignored. One that told him the Night Phantom was no foe at all, but an ally of sorts. His presence there alone was already proof enough of his intention, for the robbing youth had obviously come back to help them, however misguided it might have been. And judging by the way he was moving now, with an ease that told his lordship he's seen his fair share of battle wounds, Shikamaru rather thought the reckless offer of aid still stood.

It was only a matter of whether to accept it or not.

Just then, a slight movement caught his eye, the rhythmic pounding of footsteps in his ears, and then suddenly—

"_Night_!"

—cacophonous yelling.

Tensing, the trio whipped their heads around, just in time to see a sturdy profile of a tall man swiftly running towards them, snow and mud sloshing in his untidy wake.

"Ki—Rouge! Over here!" The Night Phantom's answering call flew out immediately, a wave of relief that washing over her at seeing her best friend's approach. Seeing him safe—and she could only assume the others were too—was alleviating to her frazzled nerves, his deep voice bellowing through a comfort, especially since her hand was now currently soaked in blood. Royal blood. Blood that, she knew, if un-staunched, would be hell to pay.

The prince needed proper help.

Opening her mouth to mention this pressing matter to her jogging friend, already feeling the need to the rush to get the wounded to a safer place, when he'd slowed to a stop before her, Sakura looked up into furious beads of brown eyes, glittering behind his leather mask, became steely flints in the soft shine of the moonbeams. The sever frown that pulled his hard mouth down was the only indication she had of his rage before he completely blew his top. Really, he didn't even pause for a short breath. "Just _what the hell_ did you think you were _doing_?"

She sighed inwardly at his temperamental reaction. They did not need this right now. His Kiba moments could wait until later. Right now, they had a person to save. So, instead, she ignored his outburst and asked a more sensible question of her own. "Where's the wagon?"

"Out back at the—" He answered impulsively, paused, then bristled. "_Hey._ I asked you a question. You do know that you could have gotten yourself _killed_? What the hell is _wrong _with you?"

"Rogue. We do not have time for—"

But Kiba wasn't listening. He was on a roll, and everything else be damned, because, "We do _not_ need another body to bury, _okay_? Why'd you have to go charging in like some—"

"Rogue!"

"I mean, all you had to do was run! Why didn't you just run? Sometimes I wonder about that 'good sense' you keep bragging about. Seriously. Why couldn—"

"_Rogue_."

"_What_, dammit?"

"Where. Is. The wagon." Twin flashes of jade bore into him heatedly from beneath the dark recesses the wide-hood, making her look faceless. A phantom of the night.

Nonplussed, Rogue hedged cautiously. "Why?"

"_Because,_" Sakura stressed, giving him a pointed stare before letting her critical gaze fall to the coiled being she was crouched next to. His hand was still glued to his wounded side, her own gloved ones on top of his, adding more pressure to the gushing wound. His head was bowed, his hair falling onto most of his face and all she could see was a marbled profile. It was enough, however, for her know that his regal face was scrunched in a grimace of pain, his jaw clenched tight. "The prince is hurt."

"..._Prince_?" Kiba's shrill exclaim trilled through the tranquil night.

She nodded. "I don't know how serious it is," she looked over to the man standing behind the prince, a still guardian waiting for any signs of threat. She met his bored eyes, twin orbs shining with what she recognized as deceptive intelligence. "But he's losing a lot of blood."

"I'm fine," came a clipped grunt, smooth, even while encased in pain, the figure before her stirring.

Sakura ignored him, as well as Kiba's incredulous exclamations—"_Prince? Prince?"—_keeping her hands pressed to the man's injury even when he tried to move away, keeping her eyes trained on the aristocrat standing steadily, almost listlessly, on his feet. Somehow, she knew she would have better luck convincing him than the injured noble, because even if the prince's injury wasn't life-threatening, should they choose to turn back to Leaf now and get the royal doctor, at the rate his blood was flowing, he'd be half dead. "He needs immediate attention." So she willed him; willed him to understand the gravity of the situation. To look past her masquerade, past the Night Phantom, past the prejudice, the line that separated the rich and the poor. "I know someone who can help."

At those solemn words, they stared at each other for a long second, the prince tensing beneath her pushing hands.

Finally, deliberately, he nodded his assent.

The Night Phantom exhaled a relieved breath. "Rouge, bring the wagon over."

Kiba wasn't listening, however. "_The_ Prince?"

"Yes, the prince." She allowed with a weary sigh.

"As in _the _prince of _Fire_?"

"Yes."

"_Our_ prince?" His eyes grew wide.

"Yes!"

"As in the—"

"Rogue. The wagon?"

"But—"

"Go!" she glared at him.

"O..._kay_..." Kiba looked at a loss. He was gobsmacked. Dumbfounded. Completely bowled over. Because if _that_ was _the_, honest to God, _Prince_ _Sasuke Uchiha_, then...that would mean... "But...why?"

They'd just robbed royalty.

"_Because._" Sakura in toned gravely. "We're taking him with us."

_Shit._

"_What_?"

-XxxxX-

**A/n:** There you have it! A post to celebrate the upcoming, long awaited SasuSaku Month (We do have a little less than two days left)! I actually didn't join the event as I've been so busy with stuff here and there, but I figured I should get into the spirit of SasuSaku love, so yeah. Here's chapter 8! xD

Anyway, to tell you honestly, I'm not exactly sure how I'm supposed to feel about this chapter. This took a long time to write. You have _no _idea how many times I had to rewrite this. Now that it's done, I actually feel like I've run a whole triathlon. So, while I'm..._relived_ that I've finally gotten this over and done with, I also feel like it's all over the place. _Chaotic chapter is chaotic_. I tried my best to clean it up a bit and make it less...chaotic, but I don't know. I can't decide whether the reason for it is because the chapter really _is_ supposed to be chaotic, or if it's because I had to write a few action scenes. If it's the latter, then I might have to work on that.

Not only that, but the characters certainly took me along for the ride. They grew so stubborn along the way and just ran off on their own that absolutely_ nothing_ I'd planned followed through. This may cause me to re-evaluate all the planning I did, damn.

What do you think? :/

Oh! And one more thing! I have a new fan fiction website up. It will host all of my fan fiction, past, present and future. It will also contain some works that won't be posted here in FFN, so if you're interested, just go to my profile to read all about it. :)


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